


Perfect

by Attenia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Out of Character Legolas Greenleaf, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas have been friends for years, but Legolas has always held a part of himself back. When Aragorn stumbles upon the elf's secret, he resolves to do everything in his power to help him. Elrond works with Legolas to find the deep-buried trauma that started him on his destructive path. OOC Legolas. Warnings: suicide attempt, panic attacks, self-harm, eating disorders.





	1. Chapter 1

Aragorn  
Aragorn was filled with excitement as he entered King Thranduil’s halls for the first time. He and Legolas had been friends for nearly five years, but he’d never visited the prince in his home before.  
He’d finally overcome Legolas’ resistance to the idea with some subtle help from his Ada (in the form of having gentle conversations with the prince) and some not-so-subtle help from his brothers (in the form of dangling Legolas by his feet from the balcony).  
He hoped that the prince would be more comfortable in his own home. Whenever Aragorn was with him, whether in Imladris or the wilds, Legolas had an air of withdrawn melancholy that only seemed to ease when he was talking to Aragorn.  
Despite this, their friendship had flourished. Aragorn could barely remember a time before he was friends with Legolas, and he didn’t want to. He already felt just as close to the prince as he did to either of his brothers, and he was sure Legolas felt the same, regardless of his strange withdrawal.  
“Estel!” Legolas embraced him warmly, and Aragorn returned the hug, glad to get such an enthusiastic welcome. “How was your journey?”  
“Fine, as I told Ada it would be. I’d better write to him, though, to tell him I’ve arrived safely. If he doesn’t hear from me, he’ll send Glorfindel and the twins to check on me, likely with a whole contingent of Glorfindel’s warriors.” He made a sour face, but Legolas just chuckled.  
“Come, I will show you to the scribe’s quarters. You can send your message from there.”  
The two of them fell into easy conversation that didn’t stop until Aragorn was settled in the rooms he’d been assigned – right next to Legolas’. Once he’d had a chance to put down his pack and change into a clean set of clothes, the prince took him to greet Thranduil. Aragorn tried to hide his nerves, which wasn’t hard, because Legolas was becoming increasingly withdrawn and distracted; Aragorn wasn’t sure that his friend would notice if the hallway burst into flames around them. Aragorn knew from experience that interrogating him only served to make Legolas more withdrawn, so he kept his worry to himself.  
The two of them were escorted into the throne room, and Aragorn bowed low. “My lord. It is an honor to meet you.”  
Thranduil was just intimidating as he’d feared, but less so when he smiled. “Estel Elrondion. I have heard a lot about you from my son. You are welcome in my halls.”  
“Thank you, hir nin.”  
“You will join us for dinner, I hope?”  
“Of – of course.” Aragorn was a little surprised at how readily the woodland king had accepted him – a human and a stranger – but he wasn’t complaining. He wondered what Legolas had been saying about him that so quickly endeared him to Thranduil.  
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Legolas dragged him off to the archery range. The two of them spent a pleasant afternoon shooting and laughing together before retiring to their rooms to bathe before dinner.  
Aragorn was already undressed and about to step into the delightfully steaming tub when he realized that he didn’t know which of the many bottles in front of him was the soap. He remembered Legolas rushing him back to Imladris when he’d accidentally used what he thought to be soap in one of the prince’s many bathing bottles. It hadn’t been soap, and it had taken a week for his Ada to cure the vivid rash that had spread all over his face and neck.  
Rolling his eyes, Aragorn wrapped a towel around his waist and snatched the five bottles, stepping over to Legolas’ room. The door was ajar, so he walked inside, but stayed out of the bathing chamber. He knew how shy the prince was; indeed, Aragorn had never seen him even partially unclothed, despite the long times they’d travelled alone together. He supposed such a quality was unique to wood elves; the noldor certainly had no such qualms, at least with those they were close to.  
“Legolas?”  
A splash and a yelp had him backing up another step, hoping not to discomfort his friend. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can you please explain to me which of these bottles is safe to use as normal soap?”  
“The blue one!” Legolas sounded stressed, and Aragorn dithered, his first instinct to go to his friend and demand to know what was wrong.  
“Three of these are blue, mellon nin. Which blue?”  
“Aqua blue.”  
Aragorn rolled his eyes. “I don’t know which of these is aqua blue! Can I come in? I don’t want to go to dinner with your father looking like a picture from one of my Ada’s textbooks on skin diseases.”  
“A minute, please, Estel.”  
Several minutes passed before Legolas appeared, wrapped in a towel, looking uncharacteristically pale, even for him.  
“Show me.”  
Aragorn held out the bottles, but he was more interested in the prince’s ashen complexion than bathing.  
“This one is aqua blue, you ignorant human,” he teased. “This one here is for your hair. The others I can explain another time.”  
Legolas gave him a strained grin before backing away. Aragorn would have let him go had he not caught a flash of bright red on the white towel Legolas had wrapped around himself.  
“What’s that?”  
Legolas flinched and spun around. “Nothing.”  
“It’s not nothing, I’ve seen your blood often enough to know what it looks like. You’re hurt. What happened?”  
Aragorn had put up with Legolas’ infuriating shyness and allowed his father – at the prince’s insistence – to chase him from the healing halls whenever Legolas was injured, but right now, concern outweighed his respect for his friend’s modesty.  
“I’m fine, it’s nothing, Estel.”  
He wasn’t having any of it. Legolas had a bad habit of hiding or downplaying injuries, and none of the servants here would dare question their prince. He could collapse before they went against his orders to help him. Aragorn wouldn’t wait for that to happen; he would know what was wrong with Legolas now.  
Aragorn snatched his friend’s wrist. Legolas struggled fiercely, but not before Aragorn got a glimpse of a long line of deep slashes along the prince’s forearm. He stared at them dumbly. “Legolas?”  
Legolas wouldn’t meet his gaze. Suddenly filled with fear, Aragorn grabbed the prince’s other arm only to find more slashes, some still bleeding, others no more than scars that looked years old. Panic filled him as he grabbed the towel, ignoring Legolas’ protests as he stalked around the elf, looking for further injuries. He found none, though he was shocked at how much the prince’s ribs stuck out. What kind of clothes did he wear? He looked fine when dressed, but naked, Legolas was skeletal. Surely, normal clothes didn’t hide this much?  
Legolas had stopped fighting. His eyes were on his feet and his face was bright red. His bottom lip quivered, and he looked so fragile in that moment that Aragorn feared to approach him in the wrong way lest he shatter.  
“Legolas? Talk to me, mellon nin. What is going on with you?”  
Legolas still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Aragorn snatched a bath robe from the chair and helped the limp prince into it, sitting him down on the bed. “Legolas, if you don’t start talking, I’m going to have to take you to your father’s healers.” He was fair at healing himself – his Ada had seen to that – but he had no idea to do for wounds that were all too obviously self-inflicted. The physical wounds were easy enough to treat, but it was the wounds that couldn’t be seen that worried him.  
Panic flashed across the prince’s face. “No! Estel, please. Don’t.”  
“Then talk to me.”  
“I can’t.” The broken whisper was so filled with pain that it was all Aragorn could do not to cry at the sound of it.  
He carefully nudged Legolas so that the two of them were lying down. Legolas was trembling, and Aragorn pulled him into a tight hug. “This is why you’re always so shy about your body, isn’t it?”  
Slowly, Legolas nodded. “I’m not shy about my body, not really. Certainly not with you. You’re like my brother, Estel. I don’t care if you see me. Just…”  
“Just not this,” he finished. Legolas kept his arms clenched across his stomach, and Aragorn made no move to forcibly examine them again.  
“Why?” Aragorn breathed.  
“It’s – it’s not always easy. Being perfect.”  
Legolas was exasperatingly perfect, but Aragorn cringed to know that this was the price. “What makes you think you have to be perfect, mellon nin?”  
“I’m the prince of Greenwood. There are so many lives under my control, so many depending on me. My father does it so easily. Everyone loves him. Me… I wish I didn’t have to rule. It makes me sick, sending fighters out to their death, then having to talk to their loved ones afterward…”  
“What does Thranduil say about this? Surely, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself just because you think it makes you a better ruler?”  
If possible, Legolas went even paler. “He doesn’t know. He can’t. He’ll be so disappointed in me. Worse, he’ll be sad. The last thing I want is to bring more burdens to him.”  
Aragorn’s heart was slowly sinking. “Who else knows about this, then?”  
“No one. No one but you, Estel. Well, I think Elrond suspects – he’s stitched me up enough times that he has to have noticed I’ll never let him see my arms. He’s had to cut plenty of tunics up to reveal my torso or shoulders for treatment while leaving the sleeves to cover my arms.”  
Aragorn was suddenly angry at his Ada for not saying something. How could he let Legolas suffer like this, when he surely had to know something was terribly wrong?  
Legolas seemed to read something of his thoughts off his face, because he said quietly, “It’s not his secret to tell.”  
“Tell me about it. About why you do it. I want to understand.”  
Legolas hesitated, unsure. Aragorn gently stroked his back, silently urging his friend to confide in him. Eventually, the prince tucked his head into Aragorn’s shoulder and began to speak. “It started because of guilt, because of those who died for me. Then anger, at the world, for the cruel mistake of letting me be born. Then it was to steel myself for hard days. Then to make myself feel better when things went wrong.  
“Then… I don’t know, Estel. It’s something I use for everything, really. Like your Ada uses his herbs to correct any fault, like the twins use their pranks. I know what you’re thinking, that it’s awful, but really, this is just a normal day for me. Try not to worry over it.”  
“You ask that which is impossible. I will always worry for you, mellon nin. I can’t bear to see you hurt yourself. When did you ever get the idea that this was normal or ok? Why didn’t you ask for help? Your father, mine, the twins… Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”  
Legolas shrugged, pressing his head harder into Aragorn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Estel,” he mumbled. “I’m weak, I know. I should be able to be perfect without abusing my own body. No wonder I’m such a disappointment –”  
“Shh, mellon nin, don’t even think that. You are a disappointment to no one.”  
Legolas started shaking with quiet sobs. Aragorn held him tightly as the sobs got less quiet, and Legolas clung desperately to him. Something about the way Legolas held onto him told Aragorn that the prince hadn’t allowed anyone to hold him and comfort him when he cried in a very, very long time.  
Aragorn could do nothing but hug his friend, murmuring soft words of comfort in his ear. It hurt him to see Legolas in so much pain, more so because he should have realized it before now.  
Legolas was taking deep breaths, trying to get his crying under control. “I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. There’s no reason to get so upset. I should go –” He tried to pull away, but Aragorn was having none of it.  
“You are not weak for feeling pain, mellon nin.” He clenched his arms more firmly around his friend. “Just let it all out. Holding it in will do no good.”  
Legolas struggled for a few moments, but he was in no state to win a wrestling match, and eventually he went limp once more in Aragorn’s arms as the tears overtook him. Aragorn could only imagine how many tears he’d repressed with a sharp knife over however many years this had been going on.  
Eventually, Legolas seemed to exhaust himself and his eyes glazed as he fell into a light sleep. Aragorn brushed the prince’s hair out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, mellon nin,” he whispered. “I’m going to help you. You’re not alone anymore.”


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas  
A gentle hand shook him from sleep. Legolas was so relaxed and comfortable, more than he could remember being in a long time, that he didn’t want to wake. He nuzzled his head deeper into his warm pillow, trying to recapture the beautiful rest he’d been having.   
“I’m sorry, mellon nin, but you have to wake up. Your father is expecting us.”  
His pillow vibrated slightly with the words, and Legolas suddenly realized that it was no pillow, but Estel’s chest that he was sprawled over. He leapt up, his face flaming as memories came back to him. What had he done? Any regard Estel had had for him was surely ruined by his shameful confessions and display. Some perfect prince you are.   
“Legolas? What’s wrong?” Estel took a step toward him, his face set in concern.   
Legolas shook his head frantically, trying to gather himself. “Nothing! I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”  
Estel had always respected his privacy and given him space when he asked for it. Apparently, the human was done with that indulgence, because he followed Legolas into the bathing chamber, gasping slightly at the sight of blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it up properly yet.  
Legolas lunged for his knife, planning to hide at least part of the evidence, but Estel got there first, snatching it away and tossing it into the outer room.   
“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself anymore, gwador. Come, now, let’s get your arms cleaned up before dinner.”  
Legolas blinked dumbly as Estel urged him into the now cold water. He didn’t know how to collect himself under his friend’s gaze, a gaze that seemed to see far too much. Worse, he didn’t know how to do it without his knife. He was expected to have dinner with his father! How in middle earth was he supposed to do that if Estel didn’t let him do what he needed to?  
Hands on his shoulders started shaking him. “Legolas! Look at me. What’s wrong? You’re trembling like a leaf.”  
He opened his mouth, but how could he explain? Estel clearly wasn’t letting this go without an explanation, though, so he would have to try. “I need to get ready for dinner with father. I’ll need to be presentable – calm, collected, ready to talk matters of state with him.”  
“I suppose so, but he’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about kingdom stuff. He loves you, Legolas.”  
Legolas nodded miserably. His father would indeed understand if he wasn’t composed, or if he didn’t want to talk about anything stressful. There was another reason, though, and this one, his father wouldn’t be at all understanding about.  
“I’ll need to eat.”  
“Yes, well, you would generally do that at dinner.” Estel was trying to peer into his eyes, his face bewildered. “I still don’t understand.”  
Legolas knew why he was confused. He’d so far managed to fool Estel with the excuse that wood elves didn’t need to eat as often as noldor elves, along with a healthy amount of padding in his tunics to hide his increasingly skeletal frame. Of course, Elrond and the twins weren’t so easily fooled – they knew full well it wasn’t normal for wood elves to skip meals as often as Legolas did – but he’d so far managed to brush off their concern. He couldn’t remember how long he’d had trouble eating for, but he’d managed to hide it at first.   
Recently, though, his father had been making worried comments about how thin he was. If he wanted to avoid being sent to the healers, Legolas would have to eat at dinner. He couldn’t force the food down without bracing himself for it, though. The bite of the knife would help clear his mind, he knew, and help him get through it when the sight of food made him want to run from the room.   
A glance at the sky told him they were running out of time. They would be expected at dinner soon, and Legolas needed to get himself under control. “Just leave me alone for a few minutes, Estel. I promise, I’ll be quick. Go bathe, and I’ll be fine when you come out.”  
“No.” The stupid, stubborn human’s jaw was set. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. You’re just going to have to find other ways of coping. I won’t see you bleed, mellon nin, not when I can help it.”  
Despair warred with panic. What now? What on middle earth was Legolas supposed to do? There wasn’t time to hash this out with Estel before dinner. He’d just have to do his best for this evening, and try to explain it to his friend afterward. Estel would see that Legolas was doing what he needed to.   
“If you won’t leave, then you’d best bathe with me. You’ve got blood on you. Come on, hurry.”  
Estel did so willingly enough, but he insisted on tenderly spreading a soothing salve over the cuts on his friend’s arms. Legolas didn’t like it, but one look from Estel – a look that was scarily reminiscent of Elrond – told him that he would not win a battle on this front.   
They got dressed, and Legolas tried to pull himself together. There wasn’t any time to waste, not unless they wanted to be late. Estel stuck close by his side as they walked in to the small dining chamber where Thranduil ate with family and close acquaintances.   
One look at his father told Legolas that he’d done an awful job of composing himself without his knife.  
“Legolas? What’s wrong, ion nin?”  
“Nothing, Ada. I’m fine.”  
Thranduil’s gaze went to Estel, who averted his eyes. Legolas took a deep breath, trying to appear calm and unruffled.   
“I’m good, Ada, I promise. What’s for dinner?”  
“Your favorite, roast duck with lemon sauce.”  
It was all Legolas could do not to wince. There was no way he’d get away with not eating, not when his father had specially prepared the dish Legolas used to love, before eating became a chore and a trial.   
Legolas tried to make light conversation with his father and the few trusted counsellors invited to the dinner. When the food arrived, he shoved it around on his plate, desperately trying to appear like he was eating.   
Estel was watching the rest of the table with narrowed eyes. They were all eating heartily, putting lie to Legolas’ pretense that wood elves barely ate anything with every bite. This was exactly why he’d protested to Estel coming to Greenwood. He’d known his deception would quickly be exposed. Thranduil was watching his son with worried eyes.   
“Legolas? Is the food not cooked well enough?”  
“No, it’s fine, Ada.” Legolas forced himself to take a bite, hoping his attempt as a smile didn’t come out as the grimace it felt like. The food was greasy and he could feel it sitting in his stomach. Legolas felt decidedly unclean, even though he’d just bathed. He resigned himself to eating, knowing what would come after.   
It wasn’t something he liked to resort to often, but there had been occasions when he couldn’t get out of eating, and the feeling of impurity afterward wouldn’t let him rest. He knew that without his knife (and Estel certainly had no intentions of giving it back or letting him acquire another), he’d have no chance at quelling those feelings.   
Both Estel and his father seemed relieved when Legolas cleared his plate, but he was sure they could see the distress on his face. Legolas barely managed to track the conversations, praying that dinner would be over quickly. When it was, he made sure he’d rounded a corner before he stated running.  
Legolas stumbled into his bathroom and leaned over the toilet, pushing a finger deep into his throat. He retched violently and leaned over as his supper splattered into the toilet. He did it again, desperate to cleanse himself of the food he’d unwillingly eaten. His sides heaved and his eyes were streaming, but more than the physical discomfort, Legolas felt relief.  
He was pushing his finger into his throat for the fourth time when a hand snatched his wrist. “Legolas! What are you doing?”  
It didn’t matter that Estel had captured his hand. His stomach knew what to do by now and it heaved without further urging from his fingers.   
“I’m calling the healers.”  
“NO!” Legolas nearly choked as he spat out vomit and grabbed Estel. “Don’t, Estel, I’m fine.”  
“You are not fine, mellon nin!”  
Legolas spat the last of the vomit into the toilet and struggled to his feet. Estel let him past to wash out his mouth and wipe his face, but then the human grabbed his hand and dragged him back to his bed, quickly urging him down and getting under the covers facing him.   
Legolas found he suddenly couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “What?” he muttered.   
“No, that’s my question. What was that, mellon nin? I’ve seen you force yourself to throw up once when you accidentally ingested poison, but unless you claim that your father tried to poison us, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”  
“You won’t. Just leave me alone.” Legolas was ashamed enough of his display earlier he didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire that was surely even now destroying Estel’s esteem of him.   
“No. I’ve tried leaving you alone and giving you space, and it hasn’t helped you, not if you’re doing this to yourself. If you won’t talk to me, you have to talk to someone. Your father, or mine. Someone.”  
Panic seized him and Legolas grabbed Estel’s wrists, desperate to stop him running off and doing something that couldn’t be taken back. “You can’t tell them. Please, Estel. Promise me.”  
“I can only promise that if you let me help you.”  
Scarcely knowing what he was agreeing to, Legolas nodded.   
“Good. Now, tell me what that was about.”  
Legolas’ eyes winced closed. Great. Now what? Estel pulled him close, tucking Legolas’ head against his shoulder, as it had been a few hours earlier. Legolas knew he should keep his mouth shut. He pressed his lips tightly together, hoping he could hold back the words. 

Aragorn  
Legolas was trembling, and Aragorn tenderly stroked the prince’s hair. “You can tell me anything,” he murmured.   
Growing up with elves had taught him patience, and that held him in good stead now. Legolas was still fragile after earlier, and he hadn’t been able to cut himself to force his composure back. Aragorn knew that he only had to wait for the dam to break.   
Before long, it did.   
“The food feels like a blemish inside me. I hate it. Eating it is hard enough, but if I’m forced to eat, keeping it down is next to impossible. Sometimes cutting helps with that, sometimes not. I can’t be perfect if I have food polluting me.”  
“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, or make yourself throw up after you’ve eaten.” There was a slight question in his words, which was answered when Legolas instantly tensed.  
“I can’t cope without it. Please, gwador, I swear I’m doing nothing more than what I need to.”  
That settled it. Aragorn sighed heavily. “You need more help than I can give you. I don’t know enough about this stuff. You need Ada.”  
Predictably, Legolas was already shaking his head. “No. It’s bad enough that you know. I don’t want anyone else knowing how weak I am. Trust me, Estel, I’ve been managing this way for a long time. Just because you’ve found out doesn’t suddenly make it a big emergency.”  
“It’s been a big emergency for a long time, even if no one has noticed it. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier, mellon nin, but I am not going to pretend this isn’t as serious as it is. You’re already skin and bones. How long before you start doing permanent damage to your body?”  
“The food just makes it worse.”  
“You need food to live, mellon nin.”  
Legolas tensed in his arms. Aragorn’s heart sank as he followed the thought through to its logical conclusion. “You do know that not eating will kill you eventually, don’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question.  
“It would be easier,” Legolas breathed, so softly that Aragorn had to strain to hear. “It’s so tiring, trying all the time. Sometimes, I just want to rest.”  
Aragorn felt his heart breaking at his friend’s words. “Surely, you cannot want to die, gwador?”  
Legolas didn’t answer, which Aragorn supposed was an answer in itself. He bit back his tears. Legolas needed him to be strong right now.   
“I’m so sorry that you’ve been suffering, and I haven’t known,” he whispered. “I wish I realized sooner.”  
“It’s not your fault, Estel. I hid it well.”  
“You’re not hiding it anymore; I won’t let you. I’m here for you, gwador. I’ll walk through this with you.”  
Instead of comforting the elf, his words seemed to have the opposite effect. Legolas’ hands clenched in his shirt, clutching tightly to him as the prince started to cry. His entire body shook with it, and Aragorn wondered when, before today, was the last time Legolas had allowed himself the simple release of crying. In all the time they’d known each other, Aragorn had never once seen him cry before now.   
“I’m here with you, gwador,” he whispered. “You’re not alone. I see you. I won’t let you deal with this by yourself anymore.”  
If anything, Legolas sobbed harder, but Aragorn understood. The tears were of relief as much as anguish for what he was going through – relief that someone finally saw him and accepted him as he was.   
“You never have to be perfect for me.” He held Legolas close and stroked his hair. “I love you just the way you are, gwador, imperfections and all.”  
A low wail of misery made its way out of the elf’s mouth before the prince clapped his hand over his lips. Aragorn wished he wouldn’t, but he understood that Legolas didn’t want anyone to come running, thinking he was being attacked.  
“Here.” Aragorn pressed Legolas’ mouth to his shoulder. “Make all the noise you need. Scream into me. I can take it.”  
Legolas did. Aragorn could feel his mouth vibrating as the prince wailed silently, the noise muffled by his skin.   
He eventually broke away. “I can’t do it, Estel. It’s too hard – I can’t keep going. Please, help me –”  
“I will help you, I swear, gwador. I’m not surprised it’s too hard, the way you’ve been doing it. There are other ways.”  
Legolas slowly calmed, his sobs becoming less. He tried to pull out of Aragorn’s grip, but Aragorn didn’t allow it, tightening his arms.   
“This is a bad idea,” Legolas muttered. “I was fine before today, and now I don’t feel like I can keep going this way. I should never have let you see…”  
“You weren’t fine before today, and you’re right to feel like you can’t keep going this way. If I’ve helped you see that, then I’m doing as I should as your friend. I’m just glad I found out. Did you mean for me to see the blood earlier?”  
Legolas shrugged. “I didn’t think so, but maybe I did, without even realizing it. You make me feel safe, Estel. Perhaps I knew that you’d always help me, even if I was weak.”  
“Asking for help isn’t weak, mellon nin.”  
“But what now?” Legolas whispered.   
“Now, you can choose between one of two options. One, we set out for Imladris to tell Elrond everything. Two, we tell your father everything and write to Elrond, asking him to come here. Which will it be?”


	3. Chapter 3

Legolas  
Legolas was torn between panic and relief. Panic that more people were going to find out just how imperfect he was, and relief that Estel was taking it out of his hands. Some part of him had known for a while that he wasn’t coping, and as much as it scared him, that part just wanted Estel to take control.  
“Legolas? Do you want me to pick for you?”  
Legolas shook his head as the panic started winning out over the relief. How would he tell them? Any of them? What would they think, how would they look at him?  
“Imladris. We go to Imladris.” At least he could minimize the number of people who knew. His father didn’t need to know his shame.  
It was as though Estel could read his mind, or perhaps just his face. “We can do that, but don’t think that means Thranduil won’t find out about this. If I know my father, he’ll insist on writing to him the moment he finds out what’s going on. Thranduil may agree for you to remain in Imladris for treatment, but one way or another, he will know.”  
The dim ray of hope vanished. Legolas felt like he might faint. Everything he’d done to earn his father’s esteem in all his many years was coming crashing down in this moment.   
“We stay here, then. It would be cowardly, fleeing to Imladris to let Elrond do what I’m too weak to do.”  
“You are far from weak, Legolas.”  
Legolas didn’t bother to argue, knowing he would never convince Estel the truth of his flaws.   
“Come on, your father may not be asleep yet.”  
“N-now?” A wave of molten panic went through him. Legolas wasn’t ready.   
“Yes, now,” Estel said gently. “I want to start getting you help as soon as possible.”  
He suddenly felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. Legolas just wanted it all to stop, to go away and be like it was before, when he was in control of his secrets.   
“No,” he whispered. His breathing was edging on hyperventilation, but he couldn’t get control of it. Legolas hadn’t had panic attacks in years, but without his knife to keep himself on track, he was losing his grasp on his own mental state.   
“Legolas, try to stay calm. This is your father, remember. He loves you. He’s not going to judge you. Come on, breathe slowly for me.”  
“I – need my – knife –” His words were interspersed with sharp gasps.   
“I’m not giving you your knife.”  
Legolas only realized that he was tearing at his skin with his nails when Estel pried his hands away.   
“If you need to hurt someone, hurt me.” He pressed Legolas’ nails to his own skin. “Go on, I can take it. I’d rather this than see you hurt yourself.”  
Legolas shook his head frantically. Injure his heart’s brother? Unthinkable. He desperately needed to get control, but Estel’s arms were under his nails, and he wouldn’t tear at his friend’s skin like he longed to tear at his own. Legolas tried to clench his hands into fists, but Estel wasn’t having that, quickly linking their fingers.   
“Stop it, Estel! Let me go!”  
This plea fell on deaf ears. Estel wasn’t going to let Legolas injure himself, even mildly. The room was spinning, and Legolas knew that he’d pass out if this didn’t stop soon.   
He tried another plea. “Help me. Estel – can’t breathe properly – help.”  
This plea, Estel did respond to, even though it was clear he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. “Ok, ok – um, lie back, like this. Now let’s get your arms above your head, open up your lungs. You’re breathing too fast, just try to slow down a bit.”  
Legolas couldn’t slow down, not without his knife, but he didn’t have the breath to tell Estel that. “Um – alright, let’s do it like this.” Estel pushed Legolas’ tunic up and put a hand on his stomach. “Just breathe into my hand, ok? Nice deep breaths, right into my hand.”  
Legolas tried. His mind was flooded with panic at not being able to get enough air, but Estel’s warm hand and steady voice were things he could cling to. He tried to do as Estel said, and as his stomach expanded and released, he realized that he was taking slower breaths.   
They stayed there for several minutes, until the worst had passed. Legolas stared up at Estel in amazement. “It stopped,” he said dumbly. “And I didn’t need my knife.”  
Estel gave him an encouraging smile. “See? There are other ways to deal with things.”  
Legolas shook his head. “Only because you’re here. I would have needed my knife otherwise.”  
“Well, I’ll always be here for you, so that’s not a problem, is it?”  
“I guess not.” Legolas knew that when Estel died, he would follow him into Valinor – and Estel would go to Valinor, Mithrandir had promised them.   
They were quiet for a few more minutes before Estel finally broke the silence. “Are you ready to go?”  
At once, panic seized him again. “No. No, no, no, I can’t, Estel.”  
“You have to,” Estel said gently. “I’ll be with you. You can do this, I promise.”  
“Ada will be devastated. He’ll blame himself.”  
“Your father is strong. He’ll be ok.”  
“Just give me a bit of time. Tonight, even. We can tell him tomorrow.”  
Estel shot him a shrewd look. “What are you going to do if I give you the night?”  
“Nothing,” Legolas lied, but his friend knew him too well. Even now, Legolas was considering making a break for it, running for the depths of Greenwood and hiding until he could bring back his perfection and cut away this strange weakness Estel brought out in him.  
“I don’t believe you, mellon nin. Come on. Unless you want me to have the servants call Thranduil here?”  
“No.” Legolas wouldn’t be visited in bed like an invalid. He resisted feebly as Estel took his hand and pulled him to his feet. There was no resisting the determined human, and Legolas tried to focus on not letting his legs give out. This was bad enough without him needing to be carried to his father like a child.   
“I can’t,” he breathed, panic rising to a crescendo inside him as they got closer and closer to his father’s chambers.   
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I won’t leave you to drown, mellon nin, not anymore, not now that I know you’re drowning.”  
Before he knew it, they were at the king’s rooms. Legolas made a futile attempt to break away. When that failed, he finally lost the battle against his legs and his knees gave way. Estel seemed to be ready for it and grabbed him with a firm arm around his waist, taking most of his weight.  
Thranduil opened the door when Estel knocked, his eyes immediately going Legolas. He grabbed his son’s shaking shoulders. “What is it? What has happened?”  
“We need to talk to you,” Estel said firmly. “May we come in?”  
Thranduil stepped aside, ushering them to a long couch. He sat next to Legolas, who had Estel on his other side. “Ion nin?”  
Legolas opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had to say something, his Ada was looking more and more worried by the moment, but he couldn’t push the words past the block of terror in his throat. What would his father think? Legolas’ face burned with shame.   
“Estel?” The king turned to the human. “What’s going on here?”  
Estel glanced at Legolas and seemed to realize that he wasn’t able to speak. “Legolas. Hey, look at me. That’s right. Take off your tunic. I think it’ll be easiest if we show him.”  
Legolas desperately shook his head, trying to force words out of his traitorous mouth, but all that came out was a terrified cry.   
Thranduil had had enough, and he reached for Legolas’ tunic, pulling it over his head before Legolas could get himself together enough to struggle.   
The silence that followed was deafening. Legolas saw his father’s eyes go from his slashed-up arms to his prominent ribcage, his fingers absently working the padding Legolas had sewn into his tunic. The blood drained from the king’s face. “Legolas?” he whispered. “What has happened to you?”  
Legolas was more grateful than he could put into words when Estel took over. He told Thranduil everything. By the time he was done, Ada had tears running down his face, just as Legolas had feared. He’d hurt his father with his flaws. He shouldn’t have let Estel tell him.  
He couldn’t meet his king’s eyes. Estel’s arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him from making a run for it. Legolas wanted nothing more than to disappear. 

Aragorn  
Aragorn feared that Thranduil would start interrogating Legolas, much as he himself had done, demanding to know where the crazy idea of needing to be perfect had come from. He could see that Legolas couldn’t handle that right now, though, and sought to protect him.   
He drew the king’s attention. “I’m going to write to my Ada and ask him to come here and help Legolas. We’ll know more after Ada examines and speaks to him, but for now, Legolas needs our support.”  
His words had the desired effect. Thranduil hastily wiped the tears off his face and put a hand under Legolas’ chin, forcing his son to look at him.   
“You are perfect, ion nin, just the way you are. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He pulled Legolas into a tight hug. At first, Legolas was stiff in the embrace, but after a few moments, he melted into it.  
“I’m not, Ada,” he disagreed in a choked voice. “I’m weak and pathetic, and I can’t even get through a normal day without attacking myself like a crazy person. I –”  
“Shh, stop saying such things about yourself. Legolas, look at me. I love you. Nothing will ever change that, no matter what you do. No matter how you struggle, I would never think you weak. Do you understand?”  
Legolas’ face slowly crumpled as the tears started. Thranduil pulled him back into a tight hug, and then Legolas was clinging to his father like he’d clung to Aragorn earlier. “I’m such a failure,” he wailed, pressing his head to his father’s chest. “I can’t do it anymore, Ada, it’s too hard, please…”  
Thranduil shot a panicked look at Aragorn, who moved closer, putting his arms around the prince so that Legolas was embraced on both sides. “We’re going to find a way for you to do it,” he promised. “Something that isn’t this hard. No one deserves this, gwador, especially not you. We will help you, I promise.”  
Any doubts Aragorn had had about Thranduil’s reaction were dispersed as the elven king pressed a kiss to his son’s head. Aragorn knew that acceptance from his father was more healing for Legolas than it would be from anyone else.   
He knew by now that there was no calming Legolas when he was this distraught; they simply had to wait it out. Legolas untangled one hand from Thranduil’s tunic and reached back for Aragorn, who took his hand and squeezed it.   
“Help,” Legolas whispered. “Help, Estel.” Aragorn knew now that before yesterday, the prince had never asked for help in his life, and he understood the strength and desperation that it took to utter the words now.   
“I’m here, gwador. Tell me what you need.”  
Legolas just shook his head. He didn’t know what he needed. Aragorn felt hopelessly out of his depth and he wished his Ada was here. He’d promised he wouldn’t let Legolas drown, but he didn’t know what to do.   
Legolas’ nails were digging into his hand, and his voice got higher and more breathless as feelings Aragorn could barely fathom wreaked havoc in his mind. The prince was doubled over as though in pain, but Aragorn knew that this pain wasn’t physical in origin. “Estel… please…”  
Thranduil was giving him increasingly panicked looks; he didn’t know what to do either. Aragorn frantically tried to think. When he’d first been brought to Imladris, he’d had a hard time adjusting after the deaths of his biological parents. Elrond had comforted him in a number of ways, and he tried the same tactics now.  
“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He easily lifted Legolas’ skeletal form and tucked him into the king’s bed. He slipped in next to him and gestured to Thranduil, who was wringing his hands.   
“Get some more blankets in here, and tell the servants to bring some warm milk with honey.”  
At any other time, it would be ludicrous, him giving orders to the king of Greenwood, but right now, Thranduil only looked relieved as he hurried to do as instructed. He heaped the blankets over Legolas, who was still shaking so hard that the entire bed was vibrating.   
“Come, get in on his other side. Hold him tightly. Do you have any lullabies you used to sing him when he was a child?”  
Thranduil nodded, pulling Legolas close to his chest. Aragorn moved with him so that the prince was sandwiched between the two of them. Thranduil stroked his son’s hair and started singing softly. It seemed to work; the tune soothed Legolas, who slowly stopped shaking and sobbing, though the tears were still coming thick and fast.   
When the warm milk and honey came, Aragorn slipped out of bed to take it from the servant and helped Legolas sit up to drink it. Soon afterward, Legolas fell into an exhausted sleep.   
If Thranduil found it strange that he and Aragorn were ensconced in bed on either side of Legolas, he didn’t say so. They both had bigger things to worry about right now.   
“I never knew,” the king said in a pained whisper. “How could I not know? He’s my son. He could have killed himself. If he avoided food for long enough, or cut too deeply just once…”  
“Legolas hid it well. I don’t know all the answers, hir nin, but my Ada will. I’ll write to him first thing tomorrow.”  
Thranduil nodded, not taking his eyes off Legolas. “Thank you, Estel. You have done more than I could ever repay. If you ever need anything, you have only to ask.”  
“All I want is for Legolas to be well. It hurts me to see him in so much pain.”  
“Me as well. It feels cruel, forcing him away from his coping strategies, even though I know they can’t be allowed to continue. He’s suffering so much… how many times has he enforced his own idea of perfection on himself with a knife or by refusing to eat? What would ever give him the idea that I would want this for him?”  
“I don’t know,” Aragorn said sadly, stroking Legolas’ hair. “Ada will find out, I’m sure of it.”  
Thranduil nodded. “I’ll see to it that the message is sent first thing tomorrow. What about Legolas? Should we move him? I’m not sure if it’s safe to leave him alone.”  
“It’s not,” Aragorn agreed. “Let’s leave him here for tonight – we don’t want to wake him up. I think he might be more comfortable in his own chambers in future, though. With your permission, I will stay there with him.”  
“Of course. Thank you, Estel.”  
The two of them fell into silence, both watching Legolas as he slept. Though he didn’t know Thranduil well, at this moment, he and Aragorn understood each other perfectly. They both just wanted Legolas to be ok.


	4. Chapter 4

Elrond  
Lord Elrond stared down at the two letters before him. Relief battled with worry as he read them for a second time.   
“Ada?”  
Elrond looked up to see his twin sons sauntering in. “Elladan, Elrohir, come in.”  
Elladan threw himself into a chair while Elrohir perched on the windowsill. “Ada, can we take a contingent of Glorfindel’s warriors to the town by the creek?”  
“They’re having trouble,” Elladan explained, finishing his brother’s thought. “There have been bandits in the area, and we could offer them assistance.”  
“Yes, yes, of course,” Elrond said distractedly. “I will tell Glorfindel to do so.”  
“Ada?” Elladan frowned at him. “Is something wrong?”  
Relief seemed to be winning, and Elrond offered his sons a wan smile. “I’ve just gotten a letter I’ve been hoping to get for many centuries. I expected it to be from Thranduil, but I suppose it makes sense that it was Estel, though Thran has added his own words to it.”  
“From Estel? Is he ok?” Elrohir got up from the windowsill, looking ready to run for his horse and ride to Estel’s side at the least indication. Elladan leapt up too, concern for his brother evident on his face.  
Elrond realized he was scaring his sons and quickly sought to explain. “It’s Legolas. He needs help.”  
By the knowing glances the twins exchanged, they had come to suspect much as Elrond had over the years. He was just relieved that he could finally help the suffering prince. It hurt to watch him try to fight his demons alone.   
“We can be ready to go on the hour, Ada.”   
“Thank you, Elladan, but I’d like to take the day to prepare. I need to decide what books and herbs to bring. We will leave at dawn tomorrow.” He’d known the twins would come with. They weren’t as close to Legolas as Estel was, but they still cared for the prince.   
Elrohir was biting his lip, and it didn’t take long for him to speak what was on his mind. “Have we been wrong, Ada? We all suspected there was something off with Legolas, but we left him to his struggles.”  
Elrond was plagued with the same thoughts, but he tried to reassure his son. “We cannot force our help on one who doesn’t want it. I’m just relieved that Legolas is reaching out.”  
Elladan snorted. “Don’t count on it, Ada. More likely, Estel found out and has taken the choice out of his hands.”  
“Perhaps you are right. Either way, I have finally been called to help him, which is no small relief. We should make it a swift journey. Quite apart from Legolas needing us, Thranduil is distraught, to say the least.”  
The woodland king hadn’t said as much, but Elrond knew Thran well enough to read between the lines. His friend was proud and would never ask for help unless he was truly desperate. That Thranduil had so urgently requested his presence in a letter following Estel’s spoke volumes.   
“What did Estel say, Ada?”  
Elrond simply handed the letter to Elladan, with Elrohir reading over his shoulder. The blood drained from both twins’ faces. “We didn’t know,” Elladan whispered. “We had no idea it was that bad.”  
“If we’d known, we would have done something about it long before now,” Elrohir finished, turning his anguished gaze to his father. “What have we done? What harm has our restraint caused?”  
Elrond moved forward to embrace his sons. “There is no point in dwelling on the past. We are finally able to help Legolas, and we will do so. Just focus on that.”  
The three of them stood together in each other’s arms for a few moments before the twins finally broke away.   
“We’d best get going, then.” Elrohir held the door open for his brother. “We’ll be ready to leave at dawn, Ada.”

Aragorn  
They had decided to move Legolas after all, when he seemed deeply asleep. Aragorn and Thranduil agreed the prince would be happier waking in his own chambers. Near dawn, he slipped out to visit the scribes.  
Aragorn managed to get back to Legolas’ room after sending the message to his Ada before the prince awoke, for which he was grateful. It would take Elrond at least a week to get here; until he did, he and Thranduil would have to do their best with Legolas alone.  
A soft knock on the door had Legolas stirring in his sleep, but he didn’t wake as Thranduil stepped into the room. “He’s still asleep? Good. I had the chefs prepare an assortment of foods. Whichever one he finds easiest to keep down, he can have.”  
“That’s a good idea. I think it would be best if he and I ate alone, though.” Aragorn made an apologetic face. “I know you want to help, hir nin, but Legolas would do anything not to seem weak in front of you. I think it’ll make things worse for him if he has to worry about you thinking less of him while he’s struggling to eat. Best to leave us to it.”  
Thranduil took a step back, looking as though Aragorn had struck him. “I’d never think him weak or judge him.”  
“I know, I know,” Aragorn reassured. “But Legolas doesn’t believe that, for some reason. I know it’s nothing you’ve done, and it’s not your fault, but we want to make this as easy as possible for him.”  
Thranduil took several deep breaths. “You are right, Estel. I’m glad my son has you as a friend. I had the servants install bells while you were asleep. If I am needed, pull the purple string, which will alert me from the throne room, dining room or my chambers. If you need a servant, the red string.”  
Aragorn glanced at the strings hanging from the canopy over the edge of the bed. “Thank you.” He smiled at Thranduil, impressed at the king’s inventiveness. “These will be useful, to say the least.”  
The servants brought three huge platters in, and not long after, Legolas woke. He stirred slightly, and Aragorn immediately started stroking his hair, as this seemed to comfort the prince. “Legolas? How are you feeling, mellon nin?”  
Legolas sighed and leaned into his touch for a moment before pulling away. His expression was once more withdrawn and remote. Aragorn had been expecting as much. It would take time to convince Legolas that needing help wasn’t a weakness. For now, the prince fell back on old habits whenever he had a chance to, pretending that he was alright. Legolas proved Aragorn’s thoughts right with his next words. “I’m fine.”  
Aragorn rolled his eyes, but didn’t contest the statement. “Your father had breakfast brought in. He figured you could try a couple of different things and see what’s easiest to eat and keep down.”  
Legolas nodded, and if Aragorn didn’t know the prince as well as he did, he would have missed the quickly stifled expression of panic that flitted across his friend’s face.   
“Of course.” Legolas got up and went to sit at the table, staring at the platters of food. Aragorn didn’t like his blank expression. As much as it had hurt to see his friend in pain, he’d preferred it when Legolas was crying. At least then he could see and hear what was wrong. Right now, he didn’t know what was going on in the prince’s head and it scared him. What was Legolas telling himself? What chastisements was he giving himself for his ‘weakness’ the previous day?   
He’d obviously realized that he wasn’t going to get out of eating and was trying to do it stoically. Aragorn didn’t push him to give up the façade; surely, it had to fall on its own sooner or later. Judging by the trembling of Legolas’ lower lip, he thought it was likely to be sooner.   
After several minutes passed without Legolas touching any of the food, Aragorn gently prompted him. “What do you want to try?”  
Legolas scrutinized the trays and eventually reached for a pear. He brought it to his mouth, but after a moment, pulled his hand away, his brows furrowed. He tried again, but still, couldn’t seem to bring himself to bite into the fruit. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Estel.”  
He looked so hopeless and despairing in that moment that Aragorn wished more than anything he could let the prince off the hook, tell him he didn’t need to eat when it was clearly causing him distress. He couldn’t, though. Legolas needed to eat; he was far, far too thin already.   
“Here.” He moved his chair closer so that they were sitting side by side and he carefully cut up the pear into thin slices. He picked the smallest one and held it up to Legolas’ mouth. “Open up.”  
“I can feed myself, Estel,” Legolas snapped.  
Aragorn relinquished the pear slice, only to have to catch it when it dropped from Legolas’ shaking hand.   
“I can’t,” the prince whispered, turning his haunted eyes to Aragorn. “Please, don’t make me.”  
Aragorn gently put his arms around his trembling friend. “I’m sorry, but I have to. You can’t afford to miss any more meals. Just the pear, ok? I won’t make you eat any more than that this morning.”  
With shocking speed, Legolas suddenly leapt up, upending the platter, sending food flying everywhere. At first, Aragorn thought that was the worst of his reaction, but he quickly realized that throwing food wasn’t Legolas’ intention. The prince gripped the porcelain tray and smashed it over the table before leaping back out of Aragorn’s reach.  
Aragorn lunged for him, but he was too slow. Legolas took the jagged edge of the broken tray to his arm, slicing so deeply that Aragorn was sure he cut through muscle.   
“No, mellon nin!” He reached Legolas a moment too late and snatched the broken platter out of his hand, tossing it aside. Legolas sank to his knees, making no move to stem the heavy flow of blood from his arm.   
Even as Aragorn ripped a piece off his own tunic to use as bandaging, he found himself staring at Legolas. Just as disturbing as the blood was the prince’s expression. Legolas looked so relieved, so light.   
“I can eat now,” he said dreamily. Even as Aragorn bandaged his arm, Legolas picked up the slices of pear and swallowed each one whole without chewing, chasing them down with a glass of water.   
He looked back down at his arm. “Perfect,” he whispered.   
“This is not perfect!” Aragorn hadn’t meant to shout, but his nerves were shattered and he was covered in his best friend’s blood. “You can’t do this anymore, Legolas, we’re finding other ways for you to cope, remember?”  
Legolas didn’t seem to be listening. He was still staring dreamily into space. Aragorn was sure he hadn’t meant to cut as deeply as he did; in his rush, Legolas had badly wounded himself.   
Aragorn yanked on the red cord, and several minutes later, a servant knocked and entered. “Bandages and healing supplies, and water for a hot bath,” Aragorn snapped without waiting to be asked. He wanted to clean Legolas up a bit before notifying Thranduil. It would be bad enough without the king having to see his son covered in blood.  
He led Legolas into the bathing chamber, putting pressure on the wound until the bleeding stopped. By the time the servants arrived with the bath water, Legolas seemed to have come back to reality. Fortunately, the servants had brought the healing supplies before the water, so Aragorn had managed to stitch the long, deep wound without causing the unresponding prince any pain.   
“Estel?” Legolas looked around, confused, as Aragorn helped him into the steaming bath.   
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, mellon nin. I think you might be in shock. Just lie back and let me wash you.”  
For the first time, Legolas noticed the tears on his friend’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to wipe them away and only succeeding in getting blood on Aragorn’s cheeks. “But everything is ok now. I’m alright, I’m under control again. It’s perfect.”  
Aragorn resisted the urge to growl at him. “For how long, mellon nin? You have to realize I’m not going to let you do that again. I’ll have your food brought in on cushions if I must.”  
Legolas’ face fell. “This is the only way, Estel. You’ll see that eventually.”  
“Don’t count on it.”  
He finally finished washing Legolas and helped him get dressed before calling for Thranduil. While they waited for the king, Aragorn went over in his head everything they’d need to do to keep the prince safe from himself. It was a long list. He and the king had a lot of work to do. 

Elrond   
Usually, they would have greeted Thranduil in a formal setting, but Elrond wasn’t surprised when they were led to a small chamber where the king paced as he waited.   
As per Elrond’s instructions, the twins bowed and briefly greeted the king before hurrying off. It was good that they did, because Thran barely managed to hold his fragile composure until the door was shut. Elrond hurried forward in time to catch his friend. Thran fell into his arms with a sob, clutching at Elrond’s shoulders.   
“What have I done, El?” he wailed. “How could I have missed that my son was suffering so much, for so many years?”  
Thranduil’s knees gave out and Elrond gently lowered them both to the floor, trying his best to comfort the distraught king.   
“Shh, it’s alright mellon nin. It’s not your fault. Legolas didn’t want you to know.”  
“Estel found out, and he’s only been Legolas’ friend for a couple of years. I’m his father! I should have seen it…”  
“There’s nothing to be done about that,” Elrond soothed. “The past is the past. At least you know now.”  
He realized he’d made a mistake when Thran’s wide eyes came up to his. “At least I know now? You mean – you didn’t –?”  
“I have suspected for some time that something wasn’t right with Legolas, but I knew nothing for certain until I received Estel’s letter. Shh, mellon nin, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not true. I’m a healer, of course I would be more perceptive to such maladies than you. This doesn’t make you a bad father. None could have done better in your place.”  
“Why didn’t you say something, El? If you thought…”  
Elrond sighed. “Perhaps I should have, but I didn’t think it was my place. Legolas is an adult, after all. He has the right to ask for help when he is ready to receive it. Though I don’t deny I’m relieved that Estel seems to have taken that choice out of his control.”  
Thranduil tried to pull away, but Elrond held tightly to him. “So like you son,” he murmured. “Don’t shy away from comfort offered by others, mellon nin.”  
If he’d thought his words were going to be consoling, he was deadly wrong. Thranduil’s face drained of color as he stared at his lifelong friend.   
“It is me,” he whispered through unmoving lips. “I’ve been trying to fathom where Legolas got the idea that he has to be perfect, that he can’t ask anyone for help. He got it from me. I never told him that, but he must have picked it up from my actions. This is all my fault.”  
“No, mellon nin, it is not.” Elrond silently cursed his careless choice of words. “Many people are bad at accepting help, regardless of how their parents behave, but even if Legolas did pick that up specifically from you, that doesn’t sound like the problem here, though it certainly makes it more difficult. You’ve never hid your mistakes from him, but explained them in the hopes he can learn. That couldn’t have given rise to this idea that he has to be perfect all the time. It comes from somewhere else.”  
“Where?” Thran’s gaze desperately searched his. “Where would he get such an idea?”  
“I don’t know, mellon nin, but I will find out, I swear to you. Now come, dry your tears. Let us have lunch together, and you can tell me more about Legolas’ condition.”


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas  
They all thought he was doing well. Legolas hadn’t cut himself in a week. He’d been having three meals each day and hadn’t thrown up after any of them. True, all of these things had been under duress, but his father and Estel were simply glad that they’d managed to bully him into sticking to their basic requirements.  
He hadn’t cried or had a panic attack since that first night. His father was thrilled, sure that Legolas was on the mend. Estel wasn’t fooled as easily, but he seemed to be waiting for Elrond’s lead before pushing Legolas to talk about anything he didn’t want to. Several times, he’d urged Legolas to talk to him, to tell him what was bothering him, but he never insisted past the prince’s initial refusal.   
Sometimes, it was all Legolas could do to keep the self-loathing off his face. He’d never felt more flawed, more imperfect in his life. It was all he could do to keep his composure when eating, and with each bite, his bitter hatred for himself increased. Without his knife, there was no way to release it.  
Estel had promised he wouldn’t let Legolas drown, but Legolas was drowning now more than ever under his friend’s care. Estel just didn’t understand. He was like a ray of light; he had no idea what it was to be like Legolas, fundamentally defective and desperately grasping at any way to claw his way out of the pit of his own ineptitude.   
He hadn’t helped his father with matters of rule since Estel had first found out his secret. He wasn’t trusted with weapons anymore. He wasn’t even trusted to be on his own. Legolas had even tried to read, thinking to educate himself on some of the more arcane forms of warfare, but he couldn’t focus. He needed his knife; somehow, he’d become useless without it to correct him when he erred.   
His mind was muddled with exhaustion. Each night, he pretended to sleep. Elves needed less sleep than men, but after a week, even he was taking strain. He was sure that if he let his guard down long enough to fall asleep, he would break.   
“Brother!”  
Legolas cringed as the twins entered the room, pulling Estel into a rough hug. Estel laughed as he greeted them, the relief in his voice clear. If the twins were here, it meant Elrond was here too.  
Elladan and Elrohir turned on him, greeting him just as happily and boisterously as they had Estel. Legolas tried to smile for them, and failed. Just another thing he failed at. Why was he even alive? Was there ever an elf more useless than he?  
“Legolas?” Estel stood close, watching him carefully.   
Legolas did his best to school his expression. “I’m fine, Estel.”  
Estel nodded, clearly not believing it.   
“How are you doing?” Elrohir clasped the prince’s arm, an expression of such tender concern on his face that Legolas had to shut his eyes to block it out, lest he break down.  
“I’m fine,” he repeated.  
Elladan laughed. “I’d have thought that after all these years, you’d have come up with something smarter when trying to fool us. We haven’t believed ‘I’m fine’ from you for centuries, Legolas.”  
Legolas nodded, his eyes on the floor. Before, he could have fun with the twins, and especially with Estel. Now, it was taking all of his energy not to fall apart simply by breathing. He felt stretched and exhausted. He just wanted to be left alone.   
The twins’ faces fell, and Legolas berated himself fiercely for not putting up a better show for them. Some perfect prince you are.   
“Come, Ada said we should join him and Thranduil for lunch.” Elladan pulled a cheerful smile back onto his face. “You coming, Legolas?”  
Like he had a choice. Legolas simply nodded. He was silent as Estel and his brothers chatted on their way to the king’s private dining hall. He was too busy dreading his imminent encounter with Elrond to follow their conversation. The elf lord would see right through his silence. Legolas was sure that Elrond would have only to look at him to divine his deepest thoughts.   
He was terrified that Elrond’s kind smile and gentle understanding would break through his façade, and then he’d be a weeping mess again, even more pathetic than he was before.   
They got to the dining room before Elrond and Thranduil, but the two joined the group shortly. Thranduil’s eyes were suspiciously red, and Legolas knew that his father had once more been crying over him. Perhaps the king wasn’t as assured of Legolas’ improving mental state as the prince had thought.   
“Legolas.” Elrond pulled him into a gentle hug.   
“Hir nin.” Legolas remained stiff, waiting for it to end. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he blinked rapidly, fighting the burning desire to lunge for the butter knife and slash his arms with it. He only restrained himself with the knowledge that five sets of hands would stop him before he even got close.   
“Come, let us eat, and then you and I will talk.”  
Perhaps he’d gone pale, because Estel suddenly put an arm under Legolas’ elbow, as though expecting him to collapse.   
They sat down, and Legolas thanked the Valar that no one seemed to expect him to participate in their light conversation of travel and weather conditions. He stared down at his plate, which contained two chicken breasts and some roasted vegetables.   
Why, why did he have to do this? He was having a hard enough time dealing with his fear of the imminent meeting with Elrond, and food was only going to make it harder. He scarcely had the energy or mental control left after his worry to force himself to eat with composure, but he knew that no one at this table would accept that excuse.   
“Mellon nin? Talk to me.” Estel leaned close, speaking in his ear, his hand slipping into Legolas’ cold one. Legolas closed his eyes. It would be so easy to squeeze back, to take Estel’s hand and the comfort and strength it offered, but he knew then that he would lose his pathetic imitation of perfection and break down completely.   
He gently disengaged his hand and picked up a fork, wishing that he would drop dead on the spot. “I’m fine.”  
Somehow, he made it through lunch. Legolas’ fingers twitched afterward, itching to be down his throat, forcing out the impurities he’d ingested. The moment he had been dreading had arrived. Elrond stood and gestured to a seldom-used study. “Come, Legolas, let us talk.”  
Estel gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze as Legolas rose on shaky legs, sure he was being led to his doom. Elrond sat next to him on the wide couch in the study and carefully checked his bandages.   
“The wounds are healing well. I am happy with how Estel has treated them.” He re-wrapped the bandages and moved to sit across from the prince in an armchair.   
“Tell me, Legolas,” he said gently.  
Legolas refused to meet his eyes. “Estel has already told you everything, I’m sure.”  
“I would like to hear it from you.”  
Legolas pressed his lips tightly together. Once Elrond got him talking, he was done for. They sat in silence, and Legolas could feel the elf lord’s gaze on him. Just being in Elrond’s calming presence was messing with him, visiting Legolas with the mad desire to blurt out everything. If it came to a test of patience, then he knew he would lose.   
His prayers were answered when Elrond changed his approach. “How long have you felt the desire to be perfect? The desire to purify yourself?”  
It was a different question to the one Estel and Thranduil had asked many times. They asked why he thought this. He had no answer for that question, but this question, perhaps, he could answer, and then maybe Elrond would leave him be.  
Legolas thought about it. “I don’t know. Since I was young.”  
“How young? Before your naming day?”  
“No… after that, I think.” He still remembered those happier times, before he was aware of his own failure and his need to correct it.   
“Your crowning day?” Elrond prompted.   
Legolas flinched. He remembered that day well. He hadn’t yet discovered cutting. He’d felt like a fraud, standing in front of his people having a ceremonial circlet put on his head. They didn’t know just how imperfect he was. “Before then.”  
“So sometime when you were still an elfling, then. With your permission, I will speak to Thranduil of this. I think that if we can discover where these thoughts come from, we might be able to deal with them better.”  
“You can talk to my Ada, if you wish. I don’t see that it’ll make any difference, though. None of you can mend my flaws. Only I can do that, but you won’t let me.”  
Elrond didn’t protest to this as his father or Estel would have, but simply looked at him, concern and sympathy in his eyes. Legolas bit his lip. He shouldn’t have said anything. He could feel words chafing behind his lips, as though Elrond was drawing them closer to the surface.   
The silence went on and on, and Legolas bit his tongue, praying Elrond would be done with him soon, but the elf lord simply watched him. Legolas’ chest was heaving as he tried to control himself. Moving slowly, Elrond came to sit close beside him. “Legolas?”  
The words burst from his mouth without his consent. “I can’t do this, Elrond. Please, you have to let me go. Please. I feel like I’m drowning in a pool of water with no surface and no one will help me. It’s getting deeper and deeper with every day and no one will let me swim my way out. If you ever cared for me, let me go, let me be alone. Even for just a few minutes each day. Please.”  
Tears welled in his eyes, and Legolas was only aware that his fingers were digging into the still-healing cut on his arm when Elrond gently pried them away, taking the prince’s hands in his.   
“Oh penneth, I’m sorry you are suffering so.”  
Legolas’ control shattered and he found himself being drawn into Elrond’s side, his head resting on the elder’s shoulder as he shook with sobs.   
“I can’t do it,” he wept in abject misery. “Please, I can’t. What do I do?”  
Elrond’s arm around him tightened. “You let us take care of you, Legolas. Hiding your pain away won’t help anything. You know that we would never let you drown, if you would just reach out and take the hands offered to you.”  
“You can’t help me. Only my knife can.”  
“Let us try, penneth. Grant us that much.”  
“It’s too hard,” Legolas cried, desperately holding onto Elrond’s tunic.   
“I know, I know.” Elrond rocked him gently like an elfling as Legolas wept. “I know you feel like you are falling apart, but what you are feeling now is closer to being well than shutting yourself off like you were before, I promise you that much.”  
Legolas shook his head in silent denial, unable to get the words out.  
“I know what I am talking about. I am a healer, you know. You have always trusted my expertise before. Trust me now in this, Legolas.”  
“So – what? I just spend the rest of my life weeping? I’ll take the withdrawal, thanks.”  
“You may spend months or even years weeping, but it won’t endure forever. I can help you, Legolas, but only if you let me. All I ask is that you don’t shut me out of your suffering.”  
It couldn’t possibly be that simple. Legolas act like the weak fool he was, and Elrond could magically fix him? Then again, he’d seen Elrond perform acts of healing that could only be magic before.   
“What are you thinking? The truth, now.”  
Legolas answered before he could think better of it. “That if being weak and pathetic solved problems, I’d have none. That can’t be the answer to this.”  
“Showing your pain in itself won’t solve your problems, no, but it will allow myself and those helping you to see what you are struggling with, and thus let us know how to help you.”  
“I still don’t believe it,” Legolas muttered reluctantly.   
Against all odds, Elrond laughed softly. “Fair enough, penneth. You don’t have to believe. You simply have to give me – give us – a chance. Can you do that?”  
An hour ago, the honest answer to that would have been a resounding no, but Elrond had a way of making even the darkest situations seem solvable.  
“I can try,” Legolas whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Aragorn  
“Stop it, Estel, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” Elrohir chucked a pillow at him, which Aragorn ducked before continuing his pacing.   
“They’ve been gone for hours! What if something has happened?”  
“If something has happened, Ada is more than capable of dealing with it,” Elladan said patiently.   
He knew this, of course, but it didn’t stop him worrying. Before his brothers could assault him with any more items of furniture, footsteps had all three of them hurrying to the door.   
Elrond was supporting Legolas with an arm around his waist. The prince was leaning heavily on him, his head resting on the elder’s shoulder. Aragorn could see from his face that he’d been crying.  
Against all odds, Aragorn was relieved. If his Ada had broken through the walls that Legolas had been stubbornly maintaining, perhaps they truly had a chance of helping the prince rather than watching him drown in his own self-hatred.   
“Legolas? Mellon nin?” His eyes scanned the prince for injury, but found none.   
Elladan helped get Legolas to his bed, and then he and Elrohir made a tactful retreat, leaving Aragorn, Legolas and Elrond alone.  
“I’m sorry, Estel,” Legolas mumbled.   
“What are you sorry for gwador?”  
“For pushing you away when you’re trying your best to help me. Forgive me?”  
He smiled brushing a stray tear off the prince’s cheek. “There is nothing to forgive, Legolas.”  
The prince nodded, not meeting his eyes.   
“Legolas and I have made an agreement.” Elrond fussed with the coves before turning to Aragorn. “He is going to speak the truth of what he thinks and feels, when he experiences it. He won’t hide his reactions. Right now, that is all we are asking of him, other than that he eat and doesn’t hurt himself.”  
It was more than Aragorn possibly could have hoped for. Relief, glorious relief swept through him. “Thank you, gwador. Thank you.” He pressed his forehead to the prince’s. “Please, never hide from me.”  
“I’ll try,” came the soft response.   
Aragorn knew that Elrond must have some ideas on how to help Legolas, but it was a good decision on his father’s part not to speak of them now. Legolas was already looking overwhelmed, and Aragorn didn’t want to burden him with anything else.   
“Estel, a word.”  
Aragorn wasn’t willing to leave Legolas in the room alone, even though the room had been emptied of anything had even a remote potential for being converted to a weapon. He walked to the door with his Ada, keeping an eye on Legolas.   
“Legolas has given his word, and he will keep it, but you will need to remind him to tell you what he is thinking and feeling. Do not argue with him or refute his thoughts, no matter how crazy they may sound. Let him talk to you. Listen to him. For now, that’s all you can do.”  
Listen? Legolas needed a lot more than for someone to listen to him. “Ada, he needs help. He’s drowning. Just listening isn’t going to be enough.”  
“I know. We will continue to keep him under constant supervision, of course. I will be seeing him daily. Together, we will delve into the root of this. It’s too early to tell now, but I believe that I can help Legolas locate the source of his thoughts of perfection.”  
“And then you can help him?”  
“We shall see. You know I won’t give up. For now, just comfort him as best you can. I know it hurts to see him like this, but this is going to get worse before it gets better. If he’s ever to be well, he cannot cut himself off from us and from himself.”  
“I understand, Ada.”  
“Good.” Elrond raised his voice so that Legolas could hear him too. “I will leave you two for now. I will see you both at dinner.”  
Legolas closed his eyes at the mention of food. Aragorn gave his father a grateful look before turning back to his friend, clambering onto the bed with him. “What are you thinking?”  
Legolas hesitantly put voice to his thoughts. “Food is the last thing I can afford right now. I’m tainted enough as it is.”  
Aragorn bit back the arguments he was dying to throw at that statement. “Does it make a difference which food you eat? You have to eat, mellon nin, but if some foods are easier, we can focus on those.”  
Legolas appeared to think about it. “Fruits, especially the ones with lots of water, like grapes. They’re purer than other foods, I think.”  
“Then you will have fruit,” Aragorn promised, delighted. This was already more progress than they’d made in the entire week before his Ada’s arrival.   
Legolas didn’t look delighted. He looked shattered. “I’m so tired, Estel.”  
“Then rest. I will be here with you.”  
“I cannot. To rest, I must let go. If I let go… I will lose control of myself.”  
No wonder Legolas looked so exhausted. He had been holding strict control of himself for a week, not letting himself relax enough to sleep. Even elves needed more sleep than this. “Then lose control,” Aragorn breathed. “I am here. I will catch you.”  
Perhaps it was his talk with Elrond, or perhaps Legolas was simply too tired to resist anymore, but his head drooped in resignation. He shuffled himself closer, and Aragorn moved toward him, pulling the prince’s head to his shoulder like he had that first night.   
The tears started slowly. Before long, Legolas was shaking with silent sobs.   
“Talk to me,” Aragorn begged, rubbing Legolas’ arms and stroking his hair in futile attempts to comfort him. “Tell me what you are thinking.”  
“I don’t know. There are no thoughts. Pain. All I feel is pain. And tiredness. I’m so tired…”  
“Ok, mellon nin, ok. You can rest, now. I have you.”  
Legolas’ body wouldn’t let him rest, but kept wracking him with violent sobs. The prince no longer tried to muffle the noise as he clutched Aragorn’s shirt. For his part, Aragorn stroked his hair and softly hummed the lullaby that Thranduil had used before.   
“Help,” Legolas whispered. “It won’t stop, Estel. Please. I just want to sleep.”  
“It will stop, mellon nin, I promise. You just need to let it run its course.”  
“Too tired… don’t want to… please…”  
Wishing he could do more for his friend, Aragorn cupped Legolas’ cheek. “I have you, gwador. You can let go. I’ve got you.”  
He tightened his arms around the prince, hoping to carry even a portion of his friend’s sorrow. Legolas went limp in his embrace, except for when his body shook with his sobs. To Aragorn’s great relief, these became less and less, until eventually, Legolas’ body and mind took mercy on him and allowed him to drift into a deep sleep. 

Legolas  
It took a few moments for Legolas to get his bearings and figure out why he felt so safe and warm. Estel had been sleeping in his bed ever since the first night, but up until now, Legolas had avoided his touch.  
Now, he was snuggled against his best friend’s chest. Legolas felt lighter than he had in days. He opened his eyes to find Estel watching him. “How long have I been asleep for?”  
“A little over a day. You needed your rest.”  
Legolas stiffened. A day. “Only the weak or injured sleep for a day,” he said in answer to Estel’s questioning eyebrow. “I’ll have to make up for this…” He trailed off when he realized he couldn’t make up for it. His knife was off limits, as was starving himself and throwing up. Lingering hysteria flickered on the edges of his thoughts, and Legolas forcefully pulled himself away from that line of thinking. He was so warm and comfortable here; he didn’t want to ruin it just yet. Soon enough, he would.  
“You don’t need to make up for it. I can see you’re still tired. Go back to sleep, mellon nin.”  
Legolas hesitated. He would dearly love to go back to sleep, but he was scared of what effect such an act of childish weakness would have on him when he woke.   
“I still have you,” Estel encouraged, tightening his arms, which were wrapped around Legolas. “You can rest.”  
“It’ll be bad when I wake up…” Legolas knew he was too sleep-muddled to express himself properly, and he wondered if Estel understood.   
“That’s alright. Let it be bad. We’ll face it together.”  
Were he wakeful, such an argument would never have worked, but Legolas had worn himself out more than he realized.   
“Ok,” he mumbled. He was already drifting off.   
When Legolas woke next, Estel was still with him. “Oh, there you are,” he said brightly, seeing Legolas stir. “Ada was going to come and wake you himself if you didn’t wake naturally soon.”  
“Sorry,” Legolas mumbled.   
“No.” Estel grabbed both of his wrists, suddenly urgent. “Don’t do that.”  
“Don’t do what?” Legolas muttered not meeting his friend’s gaze.  
“That! I can see you doing it. You’re withdrawing again, trying to hide and be perfect. You promised Ada, remember. You’re not going to do that anymore.”  
Legolas did remember. The reaction to bring himself into line was instinctual, and he battled with it. He’d given his word. He had to do as he’d said. “How do I not?” he asked. “It’s like a reflex, like breathing.”  
“Talk to me,” Estel said at once. “What are you thinking?”  
“That I can’t break my word, but I don’t know how to keep it. I disappoint Elrond, or I wallow in my own patheticness, becoming even more despicable. Either way, I lose.”  
“Ada has told me not to argue with you, so I won’t comment on the last part, no matter how crazy it is, but as for the first, I don’t recommend having Lord Elrond disappointed with you. You don’t want to get The Eyebrow.”  
Legolas winced. The Eyebrow. Yes, he wanted to avoid that. He voiced this thought aloud for Estel’s benefit, and his friend giggled.   
“Speaking of which, we should get you to the dining hall. Ada’s been throwing a fit because you’ve slept for almost a day and half, which means you’ve missed about four meals. You really can’t afford to skip another meal, but I convinced him to let you rest.”  
Just like that, any good cheer Legolas might have had vanished. “Do we have to?”  
“We do.” Estel was sympathetic but firm. “Tell me. What are you feeling?”  
“Dread. Like a pit in my stomach. Fear, burning my throat. I’ll never be perfect if I keep eating like this. I’ve had more food in the past week than I’d had in the previous year. Even a simple conversation exhausts me so much I’m passed out for over a day. Some perfect prince you are, Legolas.”  
Legolas closed his eyes, almost hoping that Estel would rightfully reprimand him for his idiotic fears. Instead, his human friend gently combed the hair back from Legolas’ face with his fingers.   
“When Ada came to check on you, he told me he’s working on some potions for you. One that will help with the fear, at least, when you need it. I’m not sure of the others, they sound a bit more complicated, but I’m sure it’ll all help.”  
Legolas felt himself tensing. “I don’t need to be babied with medicines like a sick elfling. I am not yet that weak.”  
Estel rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll have Ada make double of everything and take it with you.”  
Legolas stared at him in surprise. “Really?”  
“Of course.”  
“That… that might actually help.”  
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Come on, gwador, let’s get this meal over and done with.”  
One of the servants must have run ahead, because when they arrived, Elrond, the twins and Thranduil were waiting in the dining hall with a number of plates of food. Legolas dragged his heels, wanting to delay the inevitable meal as long as he could. Estel walked around the table and plucked up a plate of grapes before urging Legolas to sit.  
“How are you feeling, ion nin?” Thranduil’s eyes were filled with love and concern, and Legolas felt his own eyes filling with tears at the look. No, stop it, stop it! He wasn’t going to cry again. Even as he tried to pull himself together, Estel’s hand on his cheek stopped him.   
“No hiding, remember?”  
“We’re at dinner, Estel, or whatever meal this is. With my father.”  
“No hiding,” Elrond repeated sternly.   
“Tell me,” Estel added.   
Legolas gave up his battle against the tears, letting them fall. He addressed his father. “I’m so sorry, Ada. I wish I wasn’t such an awful son. You deserve someone better than me.”  
At once, Thranduil was at his side. “I want no one but you, ion nin. Never think that you are an awful anything. You are my light and my love. Please, believe that.”  
The stupid tears were splattering down his face now as Legolas nodded. Thranduil pulled his chair closer, so that he had his father to one side and Estel to the other. Estel kept one arm around him while pushing the plate – a plate made of thick wood that wouldn’t break easily – of grapes in front of him.  
Legolas only realized that his breath was coming in short gasps when Estel pressed a hand to his stomach. “Breathe into my hand,” he urged.   
Elrond turned to a small workstation behind him, usually used for cutting up meat, but now, there were a number of herbs and bottles there. He snatched up a cup of what must have been a pre-prepared tea and handed it to Legolas. “Drink this, penneth.”  
He was in no state to question. Legolas gulped it down and tried to focus on Estel’s hand. Surprisingly, he calmed down quickly, the panic melting into fear and then melting into mere nervousness. What had Elrond given him?  
His thoughts were interrupted by a grape, held out by his father. Legolas flinched and clamped his mouth shut out of instinct. He’d eaten without any hysterics for a week before Elrond came, but that was while he was holding onto the tatters of his perfection. Those were long gone, and now he didn’t know how to do it.  
“Tell me.” Estel and Elrond spoke at once, and in the same gentle tone of voice, such that they could have been the same person.  
“Don’t want it,” Legolas muttered. He knew it was pathetic that he couldn’t come up with a better reason. Estel squeezed his wrist, giving him a stern look, and Legolas voiced the thought. “I know I should have a better reason, but I don’t. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this, not now.” The grape seemed to be growing in his vision. Surely, it hadn’t been that big a moment ago?  
“How about this? I’ll peel it for you and take out the seeds, then you eat it.”  
Legolas was caught off guard by Estel’s strange proposal, but he couldn’t deny it had merit. Without the seeds or the skin, the grape would be pure, consisting almost entirely of water. Surely, he could manage that?  
“Ok,” he said softly. There were no sharp knives at the table, so Estel used his nails to get the skin off and make a slit in the grape to squeeze the seeds out. He butchered the poor grape, but at least it was smaller now.  
Legolas hesitantly took it and popped it into his mouth, swallowing it with a gulp of water. Immediately, the urge to cut or throw up had him.   
“Legolas…”  
“Knife… or vomit,” he gasped, clutching his stomach, wanting to tear the offending food right out of it. “Need – one…”  
“I understand, mellon nin, but we cannot allow that.”  
“Here.” Elladan got up from where he and Elrohir had been watching the grape peeling with increasing bemusement. “Elrohir and I will peel and de-seed the rest of the grapes for you. Estel can try to do something with your hair; it looks like there’s a bird nesting in it.”  
Despite everything, Legolas laughed. The twins started in on the grapes while Estel got up and gently sorted through his tangled hair. The feeling of his friend’s hands was comforting and calmed him further. Legolas had to admit, the grapes were easier to swallow and keep down peeled and without seeds. He snuck a glance at his father, who seemed impervious to the madness of the grape peeling. He beamed whenever Legolas swallowed one.   
As Estel was escorting him back to his room to bathe, he even heard Thranduil murmur instructions to the servants to buy extra supplies of grapes and make sure they were individually peeled.   
“And don’t you dare let me find any seeds in those grapes, or it’ll be your head. My son doesn’t need to deal with that.”  
It was so ridiculous and so lovingly caring that Legolas couldn’t help it. He was overcome with another laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

Aragorn  
The days resolved themselves into a pattern. They would wake in the morning, bathe, and Aragorn would do Legolas’ hair. Then breakfast, followed Legolas’ time with Elrond. The two of them would talk, usually for about an hour or two, about how the prince was doing, but also about Legolas’ childhood.   
Aragorn knew his father was still trying to find the source of Legolas’ bizarre thoughts of perfection. They were narrowing down the time range, and Elrond was hopeful that they’d be able to pick out the specific incident before long.   
Legolas was always exhausted after his talk with Elrond. He’d come back to his room, usually cry for an hour or so while Aragorn held him, then drift off. Once he woke from the nap, they’d walk in the gardens, or sometimes simply sit in the trees, which was a comfort to the prince.  
Nights were the worst. Sometimes, after dinner – which was always harder to get down than breakfast or lunch – Legolas would be too worn out to do anything but fall into bed. Other times, he’d be up half the night sobbing while Estel or sometimes Thranduil sang to him. At other times, Aragorn would force Elrond’s calming tonic on him if the prince’s panic got too bad.   
His Ada had a potion that could help Legolas sleep, but he didn’t like to use it too often, worried he would become dependent on it, so for the most part, Aragorn did his best to ensure his friend managed to sleep naturally.   
Elrond spent over a week researching and creating a tea that he had Legolas take each morning and evening. He said it was to help with the obsessive need for perfection and purification. Aragorn couldn’t tell if it was working or not, but he trusted his Ada.  
When Legolas had the energy, they’d spend time with the twins, though they still didn’t allow him near weapons. There had been several slips and near misses that clearly showed that Legolas was far from well. He was putting on weight and his arms were healing, but there were still days when he’d snatch anything sharp to relieve his own internal turmoil, or when he’d try to stick his hand down his throat after eating.   
Several times, he hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness over meals before Ada could get the calming tea into him.   
On the other hand, they were making progress with the actual food. Legolas had been mortified when he found out that his father now had dedicated servants whose sole purpose in life was to ensure that all of the prince’s fruit was de-seeded and peeled.   
Aragorn and the twins found it hilarious, and their gentle teasing had slowly won Legolas over, so that even he would chuckle about it sometimes. One particularly memorable incident involved a piece of skin being left on a grape and Legolas nearly choking on it, not expecting the skin and almost inhaling the grape, then having to drink two cups of Elrond’s tea before he was calm again.  
Thranduil’s rage was almost comical and Aragorn had no doubt that the poor grape peeler would have been flogged had Elrond not interceded on her behalf. To make Legolas feel less self-conscious about needing his food so specifically prepared, Elladan and Elrohir took to eating theirs the same way, and throwing theatrical, over the top fits at the servants if they found anything wrong with their peeled and de-seeded fruit.   
Fortunately, the servants knew that the twins were only playing with them and wouldn’t hurt them. The same couldn’t be said for Thranduil. He took Legolas’ health and happiness seriously, and anything that upset his son was enough to send trembling servants fleeing from the king’s glare.   
They started to expand Legolas’ diet to other types of fruit, which he struggled with, but they all knew that couldn’t survive on grapes alone forever. Eventually, they’d work on bread, nuts and meat, but that was a long way off.   
Aragorn couldn’t say things were good, exactly, but they were going as well as could be expected. His family had been in Greenwood for a month when Legolas stumbled out of the study he and Elrond had claimed as their own with a dazed, confused look.   
“Mellon nin?” As always, Aragorn was waiting in the corridor outside, far enough to give Legolas privacy to speak without being overheard, but still within sight of the door. He hurried over. “Tell me.”  
Legolas shook his head, not in denial, but as though to clear it. Aragorn was already leading him to his chambers – their chambers, really; he’d barely used the rooms Thranduil had assigned to him.   
Aragorn sat Legolas down on the bed, taking his hands and waiting. He’d give the prince a chance to speak before he prompted.   
Several minutes later, Legolas did. “I’m confused,” the elf mumbled.  
“I can see that, gwador. What are you confused about?”  
“I don’t know… it’s images. It’s not clear. Why not? It’s not like other memories, things I don’t recall…”  
Aragorn surreptitiously brushed the hair back from the prince’s forehead, checking for a fever. There was none, which didn’t entirely allay his worries. “I don’t understand, mellon nin. Can you explain it to me?”  
Legolas’ gaze met his, and the prince seemed to gather his thoughts. “Elrond has been taking me through some early memories, trying to figure out where my ideas of perfection started. Of course, there are some things I don’t remember, and some I only vaguely remember. Ada has been able to help fill in some of the blanks.  
Today, though, we were talking about a hunting trip Ada took me on, a few years after my naming day. It was just the two of us and a couple of guards. I don’t… it’s blurred, but not like the other memories that I just can’t recall. It feels different. There are shapes and noises that don’t make sense to me.”  
This wasn’t making sense to Aragorn either, but he held his tongue, letting Legolas talk.  
“I remember the first day,” Legolas said slowly. “We didn’t catch anything. On the second day, it was hot and I wanted to swim in the lake. Ada was going to take me, but he spotted one of the rare white deer and wanted to bring it down. He had his head guard, Velil, take me and watch over me. I swam… then… I don’t know… blurs and noise. I remember fear, I think. The next thing I remember, I’m lying down next to Velil; I think I’m taking a nap. Then I’m back at camp with Ada. He caught the deer. The rest of the trip was normal, as far as I can recall.”  
Aragorn didn’t know what to make of this. “What does Ada say?”  
“He spoke to my Ada to get the facts. Apparently, he nearly beheaded Velil for falling asleep while watching me before he found the bump on her head. She must have tripped and passed out. I don’t know why I didn’t notice, but I suppose I was having too much fun swimming and simply thought she was sleeping. But since there was no one else there, we don’t know what happened.”  
“What happened? You think something else happened, that you’re not remembering?”  
“Elrond thinks so. He said that a person’s mind can block out memories that cause great distress, and he thinks this might be the case here. He can make a potion for me, to release the memories, if I want. He warned me, though, that memories become blocked for a reason. Releasing them may make things worse… but then, it may make them better.”  
Legolas shrugged. “I don’t know. What do I do, Estel?”  
Aragorn felt hopelessly out of his depth here. “I don’t know, mellon nin. Personally, I would trust Ada. What does he say?”  
“He thinks we should try it.”  
“Then maybe you should.”  
“Maybe.” Legolas yawned.   
“You’re tired. Do you want to sleep?”  
“Maybe. No, but also yes.”  
By now, Aragorn knew how to interpret Legolas’ confusingly honest answers. “You want to sleep, but you’re not sure you should?”  
“It still feels weak, to spend so much time sleeping.”  
“Remember what Elrond said, gwador. The work you are doing with him is every bit as taxing as fighting orcs or spiders. Of course you need your rest.”  
“I know.” Legolas’ lip was trembling. “I still feel weak, though.”  
Aragorn pulled him into a hug, his hands already wiping the tears away. “I know.”   
After a few shuddering breaths, Legolas pulled back. “You’re right. I’m exhausted. I think I want to sleep, if I can.” Sometimes, Legolas fell asleep at once, but at other times, he tossed and turned, tormented by his own mind, his body tense even as he tried to relax. Fortunately, Aragorn knew how to help him.  
“Come on, then, off with this.” He tugged at the prince’s tunic and Legolas pulled it easily over his head, with no reticence toward Aragorn seeing his body; there were no secrets between them now. “Lie down,” he instructed, but Legolas was already doing it, lying on his stomach with his arms around his pillow.  
Aragorn pulled the scented oil they used from the bed stand and started spreading it over his friend’s back and shoulders. Legolas moaned softly as Aragorn started kneading the tense muscles.   
“I don’t know how you do this, mellon nin,” Aragorn chuckled. “Anyone who didn’t know better would say you really have been fighting orcs, based on the state of your back. I massage out a dozen knots one day, and the next day, you manage to bring them all back. It’s quite talented, I’ll give you that.”  
“Sorry,” Legolas murmured, but Aragorn could hear the smile in his voice. He knew the prince had a bad habit of tensing when he was assailed by difficult thoughts or emotions. More than once, Elrond had had to spend hours rubbing the bizarrely tight muscles just for Legolas to be able to get out of bed.   
“Mmm, right there, Estel.”  
Aragorn obediently focused on a particularly tight spot just under the prince’s left shoulder blade. Legolas tensed momentarily as his friend’s sure fingers pressed down on the tender place. Aragorn eased up on the pressure, kneading slowly but firmly as Legolas made sleepy noises of pleasure.   
He didn’t know quite when Legolas fell asleep, but Aragorn kept massaging, working out every bit of tension he could find in his friend’s muscles. When he was done, he used a warm cloth to wipe the excess oil from Legolas’ back and pulled the blanket over him.   
He knew the prince would strain his neck sleeping like that, so he gently turned Legolas over onto his side. Legolas mumbled something in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Aragorn quietly washed his hands before slipping into bed with his friend. Even in sleep, Legolas reached for him, settling his head in the now familiar spot on Aragorn’s shoulder.   
Seeing Legolas so peaceful and content never failed to bring Aragorn relaxation too, and it wasn’t long before he was joining his friend in sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Legolas  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Elrond held a mug of strong-smelling tea, but seemed reluctant to hand it over.   
“I’m sure. I trust you, hir nin.”  
The elf lord nodded. “I am going to use vilya to link with your mind, so that when the memory comes, I can see it with you. Do you agree?”  
“Yes, of course.” Legolas was trying to hide his nerves. If he started having a panic attack, Elrond would surely decide this was a bad idea. He just wanted to get this over and done with. He had plenty of horrible memories. What was one more?  
Elrond handed over the cup, and Legolas drained it in three swallows. It tasted awful.   
“Here, lie down,” Elrond urged. Legolas did as he was told, lying on his back on the couch. He felt a slight tingling at the edges of his consciousness. “That is me, penneth. Let me in.”  
He did his best to relax, and he assumed he was doing it right, because Elrond didn’t repeat the request. Legolas was just about to ask how long it would take to work when the room before him disappeared.

He was suddenly standing in bright sunlight. He recognized the place instantly; it was a lake near the palace, the one he remembered from the mysterious hunting trip. The perspective was different to what he was used to, and he realized that was because he was shorter here. At this time, he was the human equivalent of ten years old.   
Velil was sitting with her back against a tree, watching him. Though she was still, her eyes never stopped moving, on the alert for any danger.  
Legolas laughed as he pulled off his tunic, leaving just his pants and dashing into the lake. The water was cold and refreshing. He dove under the surface, crawling along the bottom with his eyes open. When he came up, a cry had him spinning around. Velil wasn’t sitting anymore. She was sprawled on the ground, unmoving.  
Above her stood five men, one holding a rock in his hand. Legolas froze, unsure what to do. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t leave Velil defenseless at the hands of men who were obviously hostile.  
The one with the rock called out to him. “Come here, princeling, unless you’d like to see me bash her head in.”  
That ended his hesitation, and Legolas swiftly swam over to the edge the lake. He walked toward the men, stopping just out of arm’s reach. He didn’t know how they knew who he was, but he would use it to his advantage. “My father will pay your ransom, whatever it is. He will pay highly for me and for her, unharmed.”  
“We don’t care about money,” the man spat. “We care about revenge.”  
Legolas’ heart sank.   
“Hurry up, Mavin, or I’ll take him myself,” one of the other men said, circling Legolas.   
“Shut your trap, Varir, I’ll take him in my own sweet time. You see, little princeling, the five of us here have something in common. All of us have lost our families because of your father, and now, we’ll take his family.”  
So they meant to kill him. Why hadn’t they done it already? Why tell him their reasons first? Legolas didn’t know what events led to them blaming his father for the deaths of their families, but he supposed it didn’t matter.   
His legs urged him to run, but if he did, they would surely kill Velil. He was filled with panic. What was he supposed to do?  
Before he could make any decisions, Mavin lunged for him, grabbing his arm roughly. Legolas cried out at the vice-like grip, but it ended quickly as he was thrown to the ground.   
“Let’s see how well you can behave, princeling,” Mavin said quietly, his eyes gleaming with something Legolas couldn’t identify and didn’t like at all. “Take off your pants.”  
Of all the things he’d been expecting, that wasn’t one of them. “What?”  
“Take off your pants or the other one dies!” Mavin roared. Varir crouched down next to Velil, holding a knife to her throat. Legolas swallowed his fear and quickly did as he was told, stumbling as his ankle caught at the bottom of his pants. Mavin pushed him over into the dirt, laughing. “Some perfect prince you are! Elves like to act like they’re so superior, but you’re not any better than any of the rest of us, are you?”  
Legolas didn’t answer. He refused to show his fear.   
“Maybe if you please us enough, we’ll let you live, hmm, princeling?”  
Legolas could do nothing but glare.   
“On your knees,” Mavin said quietly. When Legolas didn’t respond fast enough, Varir pulled out a knife and pressed it tightly to Velil’s throat, causing a thin line of blood. Legolas quickly knelt down.   
Mavin kicked him in the back and he landed flat on his stomach.   
“Up with you! All fours, now!”  
Legolas was shaking so badly that it took him a minute to get his limbs under him. Mavin was behind him, and he couldn’t see what the man was doing, but he was breathing heavily. “Stay right there,” the man growled.   
Suddenly, hands were on him, grabbing at his bottom, pulling the cheeks apart. “You’re beautiful, I’ll give you that,” Mavin panted. He was way too close; Legolas could feel the man pressed up against him.   
Without warning, pain such as he he’d never known pierced him. Legolas screamed as Mavin pushed into him, the feeling alien and wrong. Terror overwhelmed all thoughts of Velil’s safety, and Legolas frantically tried to escape.  
Mavin grabbed his hair, holding him in place. “Can’t even stay still for a few minutes. Some perfect prince, you are. You’d best perform better than that if you want to live.”  
Legolas wasn’t sure he wanted to live through this. Mavin pulled out of him and pushed in again. Legolas’ scream could have woken the dead. Nothing had ever hurt like this had. He felt violated and helpless, unable to stop Mavin from pressing into his most private places.  
He writhed and struggled, which only seemed to amuse the human. His arms flailed, but Mavin ignored it, pressing him down so that his face was to the ground.   
“Please, stop, stop,” Legolas begged, tears choking his voice. “You’re hurting me.”  
“You deserve it.” Mavin thrust again, and Legolas could feel himself tearing apart. “You’re the reason Thranduil wouldn’t send aid to our village. If you hadn’t gotten lost, his men would have been saving us from the bandits rather than searching the forest for you. Dozens of people died, all because you weren’t good enough. Some perfect prince, you are.”  
Mavin started to thrust faster, his breathing hitching. Legolas cried and struggled, but Mavin was much stronger than he was. He stared pleadingly at the other men, but they were laughing, seeming to enjoy the slow.  
“Help, someone help me! ADA! ADAAAA!”  
No one answered. There was no one else here. Only he could save himself, but he was too weak to do it. Mavin was right about him. Some perfect prince he was.   
When Mavin finally released him, Legolas collapsed, sobbing, to the forest floor. He feebly tried to crawl away, but he couldn’t get far before Varir had him. Varir hurt even more than Mavin had, because Legolas was already severely damaged inside. Had he thought it couldn’t hurt more? He was wrong.”  
“Stop screaming, you brat!”  
He tried, praying that if he could please them, they would stop, but he couldn’t stop the screams no matter how hard he struggled to.   
Legolas’ world became a blur of terror and agony. He didn’t even fully realize when the men finally stopped. After all of them had taken him, they’d just started again. The sun had moved in the sky; they must have been here for hours.  
He realized that they’d stopped when he saw Mavin’s face above him. He was lying on his back, his insides searing with pain. “We could kill you, princeling, but I think we’ll let you live. Let Thranduil see the broken, violated body of his son. He’ll see you for what you really are then – weak and pathetic, a broken little toy. His heart will shatter when he realizes that the perfect prince he thought he’d raised was no more than a farce.”  
Laughing, the men walked off, as though they’d done nothing more significant than sharing a meal together.   
Legolas rolled onto his side, crying out as the movement pulled at his internal wounds. Terror seized him anew. The men were right; what kind of prince was he? He’d cried and begged like a baby! His father would be horrified to hear it. Ada always looked at him with love and warmth; Legolas couldn’t bear to have that taken away when the king realized that he wasn’t a perfect prince, that he was a failure.  
Crying, Legolas crawled to the lake. The cool water was somewhat soothing. He flinched as he touched himself, trying to wash away the blood. When he’d done as good a job as he could, he retrieved his clothes.   
Every movement stoked the flames of agony, but he’d have to get used to that, because if his Ada suspected he was hurt, he’d send him to the healers, and then Legolas’ shame would be discovered. He had to act and move like nothing was wrong.  
Dressed, Legolas bit his lip hard to stop the tears. Velil was still unconscious. Legolas stretched out next to her, closing his eyes. He’d simply pretend he was asleep and hadn’t been aware when she was attacked.   
He knew now that he was a fraud, a pathetic, weak prince, but perhaps he could change that. Perhaps he could learn to be perfect. He could still make his father proud. Legolas dwelled on these thoughts as he waited for Velil to wake.

Legolas’ eyes snapped open. Elrond was hovering above him, his eyes filled with tears. “Legolas?” He reached for the prince, perhaps to comfort him.   
Legolas cried out and leapt from the couch, scrambling to the other side of the room. The memory of Mavin and his men felt like a rotting piece of meat inside him. He’d never felt so unclean in his life. Legolas longed to leap into a scalding bath and scrub himself free of the men’s taint. Though he knew rationally that this had happened hundreds of years ago, the feeling of impurity heeded no such logic.  
“Penneth? Speak to me, please.” Elrond didn’t move toward him, but Legolas couldn’t bear to meet the elder’s gaze. He felt like he was contaminating the very air with his befouled presence. He didn’t deserve to be near beings of light such as Elrond.   
Legolas broke for the door, bursting through it to find Estel waiting for him. He shied away from his friend, shame welling up in him. How could he ever confess to Estel how truly filthy he was?   
“Legolas? Wait, where are you going!”  
He felt like a caged animal as he dodged Estel and broke for the nearest entrance. Panic powered his limbs, and Legolas quickly outstripped both Estel and Elrond. The guards didn’t stop him at the gates – they had no reason to – and in mere moments, Legolas was in the trees. He would leave no tracks here. He could escape.   
He lost his sense of time as he ran through the branches, praying that the others would never find him. He didn’t know how he’d face them when they knew the truth of just how imperfect and soiled he was – more than he’d ever imagined.   
Legolas bit back a sob as he sped up, not going in any particular direction, desperate only to get away.

Aragorn  
Elrond came pelting out of the study after Legolas, his eyes wild.   
“Ada! What happened?”  
“Find Legolas, find him now!”  
The urgency in his father’s voice convinced him to save his questions for later. Together, the two of them ran after Legolas, but the prince had always been a swift runner, and was already out of sight. Elrond pulled ahead. By the time Aragorn made it to the grounds, the elf lord was already talking urgently to the guards. At his word, they rushed off, probably to get a search party going.  
Aragorn was running headlong for the gates when Elrond caught him around the waist. “Horses, Estel, that’ll be faster than going on foot.”  
Aragorn didn’t reply, but simply changed direction. The fact that his Ada wasn’t even waiting for Thranduil only made the molten pit of fear in his stomach writhe and surge. He and Elrond grabbed the first two saddled horses they could find and set off.   
“Where would Legolas go when he’s upset, Estel?”  
“The trees,” Aragorn said helplessly, staring around the forest. “I don’t know which ones, though. He never mentioned one specific place.”  
“Then we search everywhere. The guards are already getting started. Come, we will go south.”  
“South? Surely, Legolas wouldn’t go in that direction; that’s where the spiders are.”  
“He knows it’s the place we’re least likely to search. I think he will go that way.”  
They couldn’t gallop the horses like Aragorn wanted to in his panic, because they risked missing Legolas.  
“Ada, what happened?”  
Elrond hesitated. “I am sure Legolas would not want me to say; I tell you only because you need to know if you’re to help him. We unlocked the memory that’s been causing his problems. When he was just an elfling, he was captured and raped repeatedly by five men.”  
Aragorn was aware of the world tilting and suddenly, his Ada’s horse was right next to his and Elrond had a firm grasp on his elbow, stopping him from tipping over.   
“Stay with me, Estel.”  
He barely heard the words over the crescendo of panic inside him. What would Legolas do? Why had he been so desperate to be alone?  
“Estel! Focus, Legolas needs us.”  
Legolas. Aragorn forcibly shoved aside his feelings and righted himself in the saddle. “We have to find him.”  
“I know.” Elrond’s mouth was set in a grim line as his eyes scanned the trees. Aragorn did the same, trying to think. Legolas knew this forest. He could stay hidden for weeks if he wanted to.   
He may not have weeks. They had to find him now. Where would he go? Ada was right, he’d happily run into danger to avoid pursuit, but the south of Greenwood was still a large area. There had to be some way to narrow it down.   
“Height!” He turned to his father. “Legolas would search for the tallest trees. He’s still so skeletal, he could go right into the top branches that wouldn’t hold anyone else. That way, even if we found him, we wouldn’t be able to forcibly bring him back.”  
“That’s it,” Elrond breathed. “I don’t know where the trees grow the tallest, though. We’ll have to go back, get one of the guards.”  
“We don’t have time for that! We –”  
Aragorn broke off at the sound of galloping hooves. He twisted in the saddle to see Thranduil rapidly gaining on them. He had never been so glad to see the woodland king in his life.   
“Thran!” Elrond turned his horse and rode to meet him, Aragorn hot on his heels.  
“Where do the trees in southern Greenwood grow the tallest?”  
“What happened to my son, El?”  
“I’ll explain later. Please, trust me, Thran, we don’t have time to waste. The trees.”  
Thranduil pursed his lips. “Come, I will take you. It’s right in the middle of spider territory, though.”  
“Estel, ride back and bring a sizeable force of guards; we’re going to need them.”  
“I can’t, Ada, I have to find him!”  
He expected Elrond to argue, but Thranduil cut him off. “I will go. I know these woods better than you; I can be there and back quickly.” Without another word, he rode off.   
“Estel. Slow your breathing or you’re going to pass out.”  
He blinked at his father, only now realizing that he was panting the way Legolas did when he was panicked.   
“Ada, what if he’s… what if we don’t find him in time?”  
“Don’t think that way, ion nin. We left only minutes after he did. We’ll find him.”  
Aragorn knew that they would; the question was, would they find him alive? He glanced at his father. If Legolas died, Aragorn would follow him. Elrond would try to stop him, of course. He’d have to be quick. Even Ada couldn’t bring the dead back to life. If he got his dagger into his heart fast enough, there would be no preventing him from following Legolas into death.


	9. Chapter 9

Legolas  
Only when he was in the highest, thinnest branches did Legolas realize that he had no weapons with him. The need to purify himself was almost as strong as the need to flee. He was hidden and safe in the tree, though, and now, purification came before anything else.   
Legolas looked around, but a broken branch wouldn’t be sharp enough for his purposes, and there were no thorns in this tree or any of the others nearby. Cursing himself for not thinking ahead, he darted to the ground and started searching. It didn’t take him long to find a suitable rock, a nice long one. He broke off the end against another rock, creating a jagged cutting edge.  
He hurried back to the high branches and rolled up his sleeves. The bite of the rock against his flesh as it parted was a sweet relief. Surely, if he bled enough, he could expel the foul presence of the men that seemed to lurk under his skin.   
It helped, but not enough, so he kept going. Legolas knew he was cutting deeper than he should, that he had to slow down, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If he just did enough, he could surely bring himself back to perfection. Only then could he face his father, Elrond and Estel.  
He was starting to get dizzy, and he knew he had to stop soon. His hands were already slick with blood and his grip on the stone was slipping.  
“Legolas! Mellon nin where are you? Please, speak to me.”  
Oh Valar, they’d found him already. Estel wasn’t alone. He could hear at least a dozen horses. He was hidden among the leaves, though. Surely, they wouldn’t find him.  
He glanced down, intending to check that he was completely surrounded by leaves, when he truly saw himself. Not only was he covered in blood, but the tree branch he was on was too. It was dripping down the trunk and off the tips of leaves. Would there be enough leaves to catch all of the blood before it reached the ground? If not, he was done for. Estel would find him.   
Please, he said quietly to the tree, pressing a hand to its trunk in silent communication. He couldn’t let them find him, not yet.   
With a crack, the branch next to him – only slightly less covered in blood than his current seat – detached from the tree and plummeted to the ground.   
No, you traitor! What have you done?  
He sensed the tree’s confusion. It thought it was helping him. Legolas closed his eyes and prayed that Estel would have passed already.  
Shouts below told him that the Valar had deserted him this day.   
“Estel, let me –”  
“No, Ada, I will go. Legolas? Stay where you are, I’m coming to you.”  
He had to move. No sooner had he tried when the world swayed alarmingly and Legolas had to clutch his branch tightly to avoid falling. He was losing too much blood; he needed to bandage his wounds, but he couldn’t do that while holding on for dear life. He tried removing one hand from his death-grip around the branch, and the world tilted. Legolas snatched it again.   
Maybe Estel wouldn’t see him. Surely, the Valar weren’t this cruel?  
“Legolas! Oh no, mellon nin, what have you done?”  
He could see Estel’s horrified face peeking up from a few branches below.  
“Leave me alone, Estel. I can’t go back. Not yet.”  
“You’re bleeding heavily, gwador. I have to bandage your wounds. Besides, it’s not safe here. You’re in spider territory. Please, come down.”  
Legolas shook his head, leaving out that he may soon come down whether he wanted to or not, because he suspected he would pass out.   
“Mellon nin, please! Let me help you.”  
“I don’t deserve your help,” Legolas whispered. “Please, Estel, leave me be. I will return to the palace, I promise, when I am ready to face you. I will make myself worthy, I swear, or I will die trying.”  
“Right, that’s it, I’m coming up there.” The branches rustled as Estel continued his upward climb.  
“Estel, you can’t! The branches this high won’t hold you.”  
“I’ll risk it. I’m not letting you bleed to death up here.”  
Legolas violently cursed his friend. He couldn’t let Estel die. “Stop, stop! I’ll come down, ok? Just stay where you are.”  
To his great relief, Estel stopped. Now, Legolas was faced with a problem. He’d have to move if he wanted to climb down to Estel, but he was sure that if he let go of this branch, he’d go tumbling down to the ground. The fall would surely kill him.   
The thought of death was not the terrifying thing it had once been. One part of him longed for it. Maybe it would be easier… but how could he do that to Estel? To his father, to Elrond and the twins? They’d all been trying so hard to help him. What kind of thanks would that be, easily allowing himself to fall to his death?  
“Legolas, either you come down, or I’m coming up.”  
“I… I think I need help,” he admitted. “I can’t move.”  
“Why can’t you move, gwador?”  
“I’ll fall if I let go. I’m dizzy. It’s hard to hold on.”  
“That’s the blood loss. Alright, stay there for a moment.”  
The branches rustled again, but Legolas didn’t chance looking down. When Estel spoke again, his voice was coming from a slightly different direction.   
“Ok, I’m directly below you. Let go, mellon nin, and I will catch you.”  
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut. No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face the world. Couldn’t face Estel. It would be better to fall below, to feel an instant of pain as his body broke and his spirit was freed. Estel wouldn’t let him fall, though.   
He opened his eyes. He had to move. Desperation powered his limbs as he half-leapt, half-fell sideways to a branch to his left, a little further down. Estel was shouting something, but Legolas couldn’t make it out over the rushing in his ears.   
Another branch. He had to get further away from Estel. Then, he could let go, and he would fall. It would all be over.   
His body wasn’t cooperating, though. Even as Legolas tried to move again, he felt his grip slacking without his consent. Legolas was only vaguely aware of sliding sideways off the branch as his consciousness fled. 

Hands woke him. Hands were on him.   
Legolas cried out in panic and tried to escape, but he was thwarted by the thick blanket wrapped around him.   
“Legolas, it is Elrond. Do not fear, penneth.”  
He wanted to push himself as far away as possible, but Legolas was too weak even to lift his head. He was lying in his bed. Elrond seemed to have been in the process of bandaging his arms. He’d moved back when Legolas had flinched from him.  
“May I continue?”  
“No!” No, no, this was all wrong. He was supposed to be dead. Why wasn’t he dead?  
“I will not hurt you, penneth. I only mean to bandage your wounds.”  
Legolas shook his head, frantically clamping his lips shut. The mad desire to tell Elrond the truth – that he wanted to die – almost overwhelmed him. Despair and desperation raced through him. He needed… something. He didn’t know what he needed, but he was falling apart.  
“Legolas? What is it?”  
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He’d never asked for help – never from anyone but Estel. It was such a simple word, but he suddenly found that it would not come. He tried again, panic spurring it almost to the tip of his tongue, but still, his stubborn body wouldn’t do it.   
Legolas did the only thing he could, hoping Elrond would understand. “Estel.”  
“Of course. I had to kick him out, he was… never mind. Estel! Come in here.”  
Estel must have been right outside the door, because he was there almost instantly. He had Legolas in his arms in moments. “Speak to me mellon nin.”  
“Help,” Legolas whispered desperately in his ear. “Help, Estel.”  
At a word from Estel, Elrond was suddenly leaving, and Legolas found himself alone with his best friend. “Help,” he repeated. He hoped that Estel didn’t ask him what he needed, because he had no idea what he needed, only that he needed it desperately.  
Perhaps it was the weeks spent caring for him, getting to know his needs, or perhaps the Valar whispered in his ear, but Estel seemed to know what to do. He held Legolas tenderly, pressing the prince’s head to his chest.   
“Speak to me, gwador. Tell me what happened.”  
The words came now, and Legolas didn’t try to stop them. “Wanted to fall. Couldn’t do it. Please, Estel. You should have let me fall. Why didn’t you let me go?”  
“Because I love you, gwador. I would never give up on you, even if you have given up on yourself.”  
Legolas sagged into his friend’s hold. Yes, this was what he needed. To be held, and to be heard, by the one person he trusted to show his deepest weakness to. Estel never let go of him, not when Legolas’s tears stopped, not when his breathing returned to normal. Not when he asked if he could call Elrond back, and not when the elf lord patiently bandaged his arms as though there had been no interruption. 

As much as he knew it shouldn’t, the feeling of hands on him, hands other than Estel’s, made Legolas nervous. Had he had the blood to spare, Legolas was sure it would be in his cheeks causing him to flush red. This was Elrond, not one of the men who had attacked him! He had no call to fear the elf lord.   
The thought of the men who attacked him hit Legolas like a cannon ball. He forced himself to stay still under Elrond’s gentle touch, while all he wanted to do was take a thousand knives to his arms. A slight whimper escaped him. Instantly, Estel was alert, breathing a question into his ear. “Legolas? How are you feeling, mellon nin?”  
Even though Estel still didn’t let go of him, Legolas felt himself withdrawing mentally. For the first time, it wasn’t an entirely welcome experience. He felt relief, yes, to be building up the walls of his perfection back up, but it wasn’t as sweet as the relief of Estel holding him while he confessed his deepest fears.   
Legolas shook his head slightly, trying to get a grip on himself. Estel had been there in his moment of weakness, but Legolas couldn’t be weak anymore. The memory of the men burned in his mind. No, he would find a way to be perfect. If he couldn’t die, then that was the only way he could live with himself.  
Estel was still waiting for an answer.   
“Fine.”  
“No, you promised, gwador. No hiding. Tell me.”  
Legolas couldn’t tell him. How could he? “You’re wasting your time,” he mumbled to Elrond. Why spend so much effort and energy on a being as worthless as he? Surely, if they didn’t see it now, they would soon.   
“Your wounds need to be tended to. They are deep and many. You are lucky I am here; even your father’s top healers would have had trouble reviving you after losing as much blood as you did.”  
He knew that his protests to leave him alone would do no good, so Legolas voiced his other wish, a wish almost as strong as the first. “I want to bathe.”  
“You are too weak to bathe,” Estel said at once. “We cleaned up the blood, but a proper bath will have to wait until –”  
“Let him bathe,” Elrond interrupted. “You will have to help him, Estel, but if he agrees to this, he can bathe.”  
Legolas didn’t want help, but considering that he couldn’t even get up, he wouldn’t be able to get to the bath tub without it.  
“Fine. Please just make it hot.”  
It didn’t take long for the servants to bring the water, but it wasn’t hot enough for Legolas’ liking. Estel lowered him into the steaming tub, but it still wasn’t enough to scour the feeling of filth from him.   
“Haril, more hot water, please. Hotter than this; much hotter.” Haril didn’t question, but hurried off.   
Estel, however, frowned at him. “This isn’t hot enough for you? Much hotter and it’s going to burn you.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“Well, I care.”  
“Please, Estel, I just want to feel clean.”  
Estel pursed his lips but didn’t protest. Legolas knew that he had to summon the strength to wash himself. If he couldn’t, Estel would happily do it for him, and he knew that Estel would never allow him to stay in the bath when he realized just how hot it was.   
Haril kept bringing hot water until Legolas was happy. The heat seared painfully against his skin, burning away some of the shame.   
He took the bar of soap and began rigorously scrubbing himself. Estel stayed in the chair next to the tub – Legolas had begged off Estel being in the bath with him – ready to catch him should he pass out. It was a valid worry; Legolas was rapidly exhausting himself with the scrubbing, but he wanted to get it done.   
He could feel himself scraping off layers of skin, and hoped Estel didn’t notice. When he got to his arms, which he’d left for last, he intensified the scrubbing, tearing at the newly sewn skin.  
“Legolas, stop!” Estel reached into the water to snatch his hands, but yelped, pulling back. “What are you trying to do, cook yourself? Get out, get out!”  
Legolas ignored him, but kept washing himself violently. The next thing he knew, he was being hauled out of the bath by a cursing Estel. His energy depleted, Legolas went limp and allowed himself to be carried to the bed.   
Before he could be tucked under the covers, Thranduil came in. At the sight of Legolas, he exclaimed angrily. “Estel! Why does my son look like a freshly cooked lobster?”  
“I’m sorry, hir nin, I swear, I didn’t know the water was that hot!”  
Thranduil quickly went to Legolas’ other side and examined his arms. “You’ve torn open your stiches. I’ll call for Elrond.”  
A few minutes later, Elrond was patiently re-stitching his arms and spreading a cooling balm over his burned skin.   
“Thran, Estel, I’d like to speak to Legolas alone for a minute.”  
They must have agreed, because the sound of footsteps was followed by the click of the closing door.   
“Legolas. Legolas, look at me.”  
Very reluctantly, Legolas met Elrond’s eyes. “You are not broken,” he said softly. “You are loved and worthy. You do not need to be perfect, nor would any of us want you to be.”  
“You’re wrong.” Legolas turned his gaze to the silken canopy above. Elrond kept talking, but he wasn’t listening. They would get bored, eventually, of watching him. Surely, they would. They would realize he wasn’t worth it. He had only to wait.   
They would leave him, just as those men had, and then he would be free to do his best to fix himself, to make himself something truly worth loving, as Elrond had said.   
Elrond must have left at some point, because the chair was suddenly empty, and Estel was climbing into bed with him.   
“Legolas?” He tentatively put a hand on the prince’s shoulder. Legolas didn’t react, staring blankly at the canopy. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll understand.”  
Still, he didn’t respond. Estel would figure out the truth and leave quicker if he remained aloof. Legolas didn’t bother to listen to the human’s words, letting his mind go blissfully blank.


	10. Chapter 10

Aragorn  
Aragorn fought the urge to call his Ada. Elrond would be back to check in on Legolas in a few hours. Legolas wasn’t in any imminent danger, but Aragorn was still deeply worried. His friend didn’t even seem to hear him. He wasn’t asleep, but seemed completely disconnected.   
He watched Legolas for hours, but there was no change. When Elrond finally came back with a plate of food, Aragorn leapt up to speak to him quietly in the corner. “He won’t move or speak, Ada. He doesn’t react to anything I do. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I’m sure it can’t be good.”  
“Give him time, Estel. Bringing back that memory the way we did makes the trauma fresh. If I’d known what had happened, I never would have agreed to make him that potion.”  
Legolas didn’t seem to notice their conversation, nor when they approached with a tray of peeled grapes. “Here, let me help you sit up.” Aragorn put his arm under Legolas’ shoulders, but the elf was completely limp. He flopped like a rag doll as Aragorn positioned him upright against his headboard.   
Aragorn sat next to him and took a grape. “Open up, mellon nin.”  
Legolas turned his head away. Aragorn had been expecting trouble eating and wasn’t discouraged. “Come on, gwador, just a few grapes, then I’ll leave you alone.”  
No response.  
Elrond tried. “Legolas, you must eat. Come now, let us help you.”  
Still, no response.  
Aragorn tried to gently place the grape in the prince’s mouth, but he clamped his lips shut. “Legolas! Please, don’t make this difficult.”  
No matter how Aragorn pleaded, or what vile concoctions Elrond threatened him with, Legolas would not eat. In a fit of frustration, Aragorn even tried to pry the prince’s mouth open and force the food into him. That got a reaction. Legolas fought fiercely against him. It was only the panic in the elf’s eyes that convinced him to stop.   
Eventually, Elrond sighed. “I will come back in a few hours. Please, Legolas, you need to eat. Think about it.”  
Aragorn knew that Elrond could force Legolas to eat if necessary, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. With memories of a horrendous assault fresh in the prince’s mind, he was loath to force any kind of physical contact on him, even if it was to ensure he didn’t starve. He knew his Ada felt the same.   
He lay back down beside Legolas, trying to think of what he could do. There had to be some way to get through to him. Unable to stand the silence, he hummed Thranduil’s lullaby, and when he tired of that, he talked to his friend.   
He reminisced about some of their crazier adventures, and reflected on how many times Legolas had saved his life. He couldn’t tell if the elf was listening, but he kept at it. Aragorn listed every positive thought he’d ever had about the prince, trying to assure him that he did not need to make himself perfect, because he was already all that he needed to be.  
The sun was setting by the time he got a reaction from Legolas. “Stop.” The word was whispered, but they were close enough that Aragorn had no problem hearing.  
“Why?”  
“It hurts. Please, don’t parade my fallacy in front of me anymore.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
Legolas turned anguished eyes to his. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done? I’ve spent centuries convincing you all that I’m someone worth saving, someone who deserves your love and devotion. Not only am I broken, but I am a liar too.”  
“No, mellon nin, please, don’t think that of yourself. Every word I have spoken is the truth. You are worth everything to me.”  
“I am not! Stop this, Estel, just stop it! You don’t know what they did to me… that day, I was broken, spoiled. You don’t know…”  
“Then tell me.”  
He couldn’t read his friend’s expression as Legolas looked at him. Aragorn held his gaze, silently begging the prince to open up to him. Maybe, if he understood, he could help. Something in his face must have encouraged his friend, because Legolas started speaking quietly.  
“I was swimming in a lake. Velil was there, guarding me. I heard her cry out…”  
Aragorn listened, trying to control himself as anguish and rage flooded him in equal measure. Had this not been hundreds of years ago and these men long dead, he would already have their heads on pikes.   
“He positioned himself behind me…” Legolas broke off with a gasp. Tears were leaking from his eyes. Aragorn reacted instinctively and moved closer, pulling the prince into his arms, relieved when his touch was welcomed. Legolas curled his hands into the man’s tunic as he spoke.   
By the time the story was over, Legolas was once again shaking with violent sobs. There was a desperation and desolation to the sounds that tore at his heart.   
“Please, Estel… I can’t – I can’t go on feeling like this. I should never have been born. You should have let me fall from that tree. You should have let me…”   
“Shh, I have you gwador. Whatever you suffer, I promise, you will not suffer it alone. I am with you and I will not leave you.”  
“I don’t deserve it,” Legolas cried, his body curling in on itself as he shook with misery.  
“That is not for you to decide, is it? Who I give my love and regard to is a matter for my own heart.”  
That only made Legolas cry harder. “I can’t…”  
“Tell me what I can do, gwador.”  
“You can do nothing! I am pathetic, broken, despicable, probably beyond any hope of ever being perfect.”  
Aragorn shook his head, pressing a kiss to Legolas’ brow. He knew that arguing would do no good at this point, so he just held his friend as he cried. He wrapped himself gently around the prince, mindful of his stitches and his burns.   
“I love you, gwador,” he murmured. He didn’t know if Legolas heard him or not, but he hoped that his words reached his friend somewhere deep down in the desperate, despairing place he was in.   
“I couldn’t stop them,” Legolas moaned. “I was so weak… I begged and cried like the pathetic thing I am.”  
“You were but a child, mellon nin, and even a grown man would have every reason to beg and cry had he gone through what you did.”  
“I deserved it.”  
“You did not, I promise you. Don’t you trust me, Legolas?”  
“I – I t-trust you, mellon – nin,” he gasped out between sobs.   
“Then trust me now. You did not deserve it. No one deserves that. No one.”  
Elrond must have heard them from the hall when he came to bring food and decided to leave them be, because no one bothered them. The night darkened and the lamps ran dry, and still, Legolas cried, utterly inconsolable. Aragorn held him close, murmuring his love, wiping the prince’s tears and stroking his hair.   
Legolas usually cried himself into sleep by now, but tonight, sleep eluded him.   
Near dawn, he started mumbling. “Help, Estel, help me…”  
“What do you need, gwador?”  
“I can’t stop crying. Why can’t I stop?” Legolas looked up at him with the heartbroken eyes of a child who has been treated as no child should be.  
“Because it hurts,” Aragorn said softly.   
“Hurts too much,” Legolas breathed. “Make it stop. Estel, please…”  
“If you are willing, I can call Ada and ask him to make you something to put you to sleep.”  
Legolas nodded jerkily, and Aragorn yanked on the gold cord that had been added to the growing collection on the bed. Several minutes later, Elrond appeared.   
“Legolas? Estel?” Concern lighted his features as he hurried over to the bed.   
“Legolas needs to sleep, Ada. Can you make him something to knock him out?”  
“Of course. I will be but a moment.”  
Legolas still clung to him in desperation, as though fearing Aragorn would leave. No force in middle earth would pry him from the prince’s side right now. Aragorn just wished his friend believed it.   
When Elrond returned with a cup, Legolas eagerly gulped it down, only to choke on it as a new round of sobs wracked him.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”  
“Shh, it’s alright, there is no harm done. Ada can make more.”  
“Indeed, I can. Do not worry, penneth.”  
When Elrond returned with the second dose of sleeping potion, Aragorn helped Legolas sit up and sip at it slowly. Once it was done, Legolas wriggled under the covers, pulling them right over his head.   
“Thanks, Ada,” Aragorn said softly. Elrond gave him a swift kiss on the forehead before leaving, closing the door behind him.   
Aragorn held Legolas until the brew took effect and his friend was mercifully taken by sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Legolas  
The rising sun woke Legolas. He’d lost track of what day it was. He was so confused, and about more than the day. He’d been back and forth ever since his last session with Elrond. Did he want to hide in his perfection, or did he want to reveal everything to those trying to help him? Did he want to live, or did he want to die?   
Was he tainted and damaged beyond repair by the men’s violation, or was there hope for him? Did that memory change nothing, or did it change everything? Did he want to cut, to starve himself, to throw up? Did he want to do as Estel urged and fight his every instinct on these things?   
Legolas had made, unmade and remade so many resolutions that he was dizzy just thinking about it. Unbidden, his mind started to answer the questions for him, urging him to return to as he was before Estel had come to know everything, to beat perfection into himself if he must.   
For the second time, he experienced the strange aversion to thoughts he had held sacred since he was a child. He knew that Estel could help him. He was still securely in his friend’s arms. Estel was asleep, but even in sleep, he didn’t let go.  
Legolas knew that he had only to say the word, and Estel would help him, but he resisted. He truly was a weak, pathetic child, clinging to Estel and begging for help with every foul thought that accosted him. For countless centuries, the word had not even crossed Legolas’ lips. Now, he couldn’t count the number of times he’d said it in recent weeks.  
It was almost addictive, that simple word, the word that always brought him comfort and aid, but he still railed against it. Some perfect prince he was. Princes weren’t supposed to ask for help. Legolas knew that if he didn’t do it now, he would convince himself to bury the word again, and then who knew if it would ever make its way to the light of day again?  
“Help, Estel,” he whispered brokenly.   
The whisper was so soft that Estel shouldn’t even have heard it, even if he had been awake. Somehow, though, he did. His eyes opened at once.   
“I am here, gwador. Tell me.”  
“I don’t know what I want,” Legolas said desperately. “What do I want, Estel?” He knew he wasn’t expressing himself well, but it was the best he could do. He could only hope that Estel understood.  
“I cannot speak for what you want, mellon nin, but I can tell you what I want for you.”  
Legolas nodded urgently, and Estel continued.  
“I want you to be well,” his friend said softly. “I want you to be able to eat without hating yourself for it, without wanting to purge yourself of food. I want your arms to heal, and never to be scarred with cuts again. I want you to realize that no one is perfect, mellon nin, no one, and that you don’t have to be. You are more than enough. I want you to believe it. More than anything, I want you to want to live and be well.”  
Legolas listened with bated breath. Of course, Estel had told him all this before, but the words spoken when he needed them answered every ugly question his mind threw at him. Surely, what Estel wanted for him should be what he wanted, too? Estel loved him, of that Legolas was certain, when he was certain of nothing else.  
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I still… it doesn’t feel right. But it does. I don’t know.”  
“I know you are confused, mellon nin, but you trust me, don’t you?”  
He didn’t have to think about this for a moment. “I trust you, Estel.”  
“Then believe me when I tell you that this is right, even if it doesn’t always feel it.”  
“I feel so dirty,” Legolas whispered. “Why can’t I can’t scrub them off me?”  
“Well, possibly because I’m not going to trust you to scrub yourself for some time yet, after last time. I’ll be washing you from now on, at least until Ada says otherwise. Maybe I’ll have better luck getting you clean, hmm?”  
This made as much sense as anything else, and Legolas nodded happily. “Ok.” Somehow, he was feeling better.  
“Ok, then. Now, try not to panic, gwador, but I’m going to say something you won’t like.”  
Legolas’ good mood vanished instantly, to be replaced with an all too familiar gloom.   
“You have to eat something.”  
Gloom was replaced with panic. “I can’t. It’s too soon. I still want…” He cut himself off. He couldn’t say that to Estel.   
Estel tilted his chin up, countering his thoughts. “You can tell me anything, Legolas. What is it?”  
“I still want to die,” he whispered. “It’s not as strong as it was, but… please, Estel, eating will just make it worse.”  
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to let you die, even if you try to. You’ll be safe.”  
“No, I won’t! You don’t understand, that’s not what I’m afraid of. Dying? People do it every day. Dying is easy. Being kept alive when you want to die? When I woke and realized I was alive… if it gets worse, and I still can’t die, I can’t stand it, Estel, I won’t, I’ll find a way.”  
“I’ll talk to Ada,” Estel cut him off before he could become more hysterical. “You’re right, we can’t have you feeling like that. I’ll insist that he mixes you up something to help before you eat.”  
“Something to help with… death?”  
“You’re not the only one who’s longed for death, mellon nin, and many people for reasons far less powerful than yours. I’ve seen Ada treat a couple of patients. There are potions that can help.”  
Legolas would never have guessed as much, but Estel wouldn’t lie to him. “Ok.”  
“Let me call Ada.”  
“No!” Legolas clutched Estel in panic as he tried to get up. The room was suddenly spinning, and Estel’s hand was on his belly.   
“Breathe, Legolas, remember. Slow, now.”  
“Don’t go, please!”  
“Alright, I won’t go if you don’t want me to. I’m here. Talk to me.”  
“You’re still holding me.” Legolas felt his cheeks going red, but forced himself to explain his thought. “You have been, ever since… since you told me what I want. What you want, what I should want. If you let go, it’ll go away again. The clarity. My brain will convince me of all the other stuff, and then I’ll be all alone again. I don’t want to be alone, Estel!”  
He only realized that his hysteria was once more rising when Estel’s hand returned to his stomach, rubbing soothing circles and urging him to breathe slowly. “I’m here. Don’t worry, mellon nin, I won’t let go, not until you’re ready for me to. I would never leave you alone.”  
Legolas shook his head. That wasn’t want he meant. “It’s different. You’re here, or you’re not, but that’s not it. It’s inside. All alone.”  
“I don’t understand,” Estel said gently. “Can you try to explain more?”  
Legolas struggled to gather his thoughts. “When I have to be perfect, it’s like there’s a wall around me. It doesn’t matter how many people are around me. I’m still all alone, because they can’t get in. Other times, when I’m weak, you can get in. You’re there – not just with my body, but with me, inside. I can feel you. I’m not alone then.”  
“Oh Legolas, I understand. The walls your own mind puts up are more isolating than any prison cell. You must have been so lonely, mellon nin.”  
He nodded, ashamed of the tears that spilled from his eyes. As he so often did, Estel read him easily, perhaps his expression, though Legolas was beginning to suspect his friend could read his mind. “Do not be ashamed of your tears. Let them out.”  
“I don’t want to be alone again,” Legolas whispered.   
“I know.” Estel hugged him hard, and Legolas clung to his friend’s broad shoulders, praying that this time, he would remain with Estel, not be lost in the depths of his own mind.  
“Don’t leave,” he whispered, even though he knew that it was not Estel who left, but himself who did so. “Please, don’t leave me, Estel.”  
“I cannot promise that the walls in your mind will not come back, but I can promise you this. If those walls ever come back, I will not stop battering on them until I am once again with you. I will not let you be alone for long. I can see when it happens, don’t think I can’t. No matter what, I see you, mellon nin. I will not leave you alone. I will not let you drown.”  
“Thank you, gwador.” Those three words were all Legolas could choke out, but they were enough. More words came, though he wasn’t sure if they were understandable through his constant, cursed crying. “I love you, Estel.”  
“I love you too, gwador. You are worthy of love. Never doubt that. When your mind tells you otherwise, trust me and what I tell you. You don’t need to be perfect. Just the way you are is just as you should be.”  
Legolas wasn’t sure he believed it, but he did as Estel said. He trusted his friend.   
“Let it out,” Estel soothed. “You have centuries of tears to cry. Let them out.”  
Even if he’d wanted to resist, Legolas couldn’t have done so. He wondered why Estel wasn’t sick of him by now. All he did was blubber and cry for help. Yet, somehow, Estel still thought he was still worth loving.   
His mind started whispering poisonous things again, that Estel was wrong, that Legolas was a liar and a fraud.   
Estel held him tighter in response to the increase of the intensity of his weeping, and Legolas shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts away. They didn’t go, getting stronger with any moment. Legolas was helpless against them.   
Estel was still holding him. He didn’t know that Legolas was rapidly falling prey to the terrors of his own mind. He’d held the prince when he cried so many times, and wasn’t bothered by the wildness of the sobs, by the desperation with which Legolas clung to him.   
It came almost automatically, easily. “Help.”  
“I am here. Tell me.”  
“They won’t leave me alone, Estel! They’re going to take me back, and I’ll be alone with them!” Legolas cried out and pressed his head into Estel’s chest as a wave of shame went through him, his mind screaming that he was too tainted to touch Estel. “No, no, no… please… I don’t want to be alone…”  
“I don’t understand, mellon nin. Who is taking you?”  
“Them,” he whispered in terror. “I can’t fight them.”  
He screamed, screamed like he had when he was a tiny elfling, screamed with terror as his own mind betrayed him, snatching at him. He was going to be alone again, all alone with the need to be perfect. Legolas was going to be sick. He could never be perfect. He just wasn’t good enough. He’d rather die than try.  
“No, no, Legolas! Speak to me, tell me what’s going on. Who can’t you fight?”  
“I’m going to be alone… they’re taking me.”  
“Fight them,” Estel insisted, clearly still not comprehending who ‘them’ was. “Stay with me.”  
“I can’t… they’re too strong, Estel… help, please, I don’t want to be alone.”  
“Take my strength. You are not alone. I am right here, fighting with you. Take my strength, mellon nin.”  
Estel grabbed Legolas’ limbs, which were flailing in his panic, and held him tightly. He pressed the elf’s head firmly against his chest. “Feel me, gwador. Feel my heart. I will be strong enough for the both of us. Help me fight with you. Tell me.”  
Legolas listened to Estel’s heart. Despite everything, it was steady. Beat, beat, beat. Estel’s arms around him were firm and strong. Maybe Estel was right. Maybe he was strong enough for them both.  
“The thoughts,” Legolas gasped, trying to explain. “I have to go… to be perfect. I’m not worth anything otherwise. It’s like a cold room, and it’s trying to draw me in. I’m all alone in there.”  
“That’s good, mellon nin, keep telling me. We will fight this together.”  
“Not worth it....”  
“You are worth it, I promise.”  
“Won’t work anyway. Too broken.”  
“I will fix you,” Estel vowed. “Together, we will pick up the pieces.”  
Legolas kept going, voicing every foul thought that tried to pull him away from the warm safety of having Estel with him. Estel calmly countered each one of them. Sometimes, it was too much for Legolas to keep going, and he hung limply in Estel’s arms, merely breathing seeming like too much effort.  
When this happened, Estel would press Legolas’ head against his chest once more, murmuring words of comfort, promising not to leave him. Legolas had not the strength, but Estel gave his strength freely, and it was enough.   
At times, he clung desperately to Estel, while at others he lay in his friend’s arms like a rag doll. Estel didn’t let that happen for long, because when it did, Legolas was seized by the thoughts of perfection again. Estel held the prince close, wrapping the elf’s arms around him so that they were embracing each other.   
Legolas didn’t know how long they continued for, but at some point, he opened his mouth, and only an exhausted sigh came out. There were no more thoughts to voice. His mind was blissfully blank.   
“It’s gone,” he whispered. “We stopped it.”  
Ever since Estel had first drawn him out of his cold shell, Legolas had continually reverted to it, only to be drawn back out again. This was the first time he’d prevented himself from stepping back into that hellish isolation and need for punishing perfection. He hadn’t thought it possible, but he was still here, in Estel’s arms, and he was fully with his friend in thought and emotion, their minds nestling as closely as their bodies.   
“We fought, and we won,” Estel agreed.   
“What if… what if we don’t always win?” Legolas was too exhausted to work up much fear, but his fingers tightened on Estel’s tunic nonetheless.   
“Then I will bring you back. You aren’t better yet, mellon nin. This is only a step. We won’t always win, but today, we have, and that is enough. No matter what, no matter where you go, no matter where your mind takes you, I will always find a way to bring you back.”  
“Yes,” Legolas breathed. He didn’t want to think about the times he wouldn’t win, the times when he would be drawn back into his detachment and vicious intentions toward his own body. Not now. For now, he was too worn and weary to do anything other than drift off in Estel’s arms.


	12. Chapter 12

Aragorn  
Fierce joy burned in Aragorn’s chest. Legolas was fighting. He hadn’t given up. Even better, the prince was learning not to isolate himself. Centuries of practice would be hard to break, but this was a first step, and it gave him hope.  
He was almost as tired as he was sure Legolas was. He’d spoken the truth. He’d fought with his friend at his side, and the battle had exhausted him, but there was something he had to do before he could sleep. Aragorn had forgotten Thranduil’s ingenious cords before, but he remembered now, and he rang for Elrond.  
Several minutes later, his Ada quietly entered, bearing a tray of grapes.  
“No,” Aragorn said at once. “Not now, Ada, please, he’s exhausted. I promised him I’d ask you to mix him a potion before he had to eat.”  
Elrond looked reluctant to delay the meal that Legolas obviously needed, especially after losing so much blood. Aragorn quickly continued. “He wants to die, Ada. That’s what happened in the tree. He wasn’t delirious from blood loss as you thought. He was trying to get away from me, so that he could fall to his death.”  
Elrond paled, and Aragorn hurried on. “He’s a bit better now, but still, he should have some of your cures before he has to try to eat.”  
“Of course. I will begin mixing it at once. Thank you, Estel, for all you have done.”  
“You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for him.”  
“I know, ion nin. Thranduil has been throwing a fit, demanding to see his son. I’ve kept him out so far, managing to persuade that it’s best for Legolas to give him some time alone with you, but he won’t be denied long. I think it’s best if I send him in now.”  
“As long as he doesn’t wake Legolas.”  
“He will be content to watch him sleep, I am sure.”  
“Ada, before he comes in, tell him that he might have to leave when Legolas wakes up, even if only temporarily. I never know how he’ll be when he wakes. If I tell Thranduil to leave us, he needs to do so and come back once I have Legolas calm.”  
Elrond smiled. “Thran has never been good at taking orders, but for his son’s sake, he will do so. I will convince him, of that you have my word.”  
“Thank you, Ada.”  
Elrond kissed him on the forehead before hurrying out. Not long after, Thranduil tiptoed in. “How is he, Estel?”  
“Resting comfortably. I assume Ada has told you everything?”  
“Yes. Not in detail – he said the details are for Legolas to reveal to me himself if he wishes to – but enough. I don’t know what to do for him.”  
“We are all doing everything we can. I think he will get better, hir nin, I really do. It’ll take time and work, but we won’t give up on him.”  
“I know you won’t, Estel.” Thranduil’s eyes softened. “Sleep, penneth. I can see you need it. I will watch over the both of you.”  
“You may need to protect me from Elladan and Elrohir,” he mumbled, already half asleep. “When they find out what happened in the woods, they’re going to want revenge. Legolas doesn’t know – don’t tell him. It’s bad enough for him without knowing that we had to fight off spiders while extracting him when he was unconscious.”  
“I had no intentions of doing so. And as for the twins, you are right, they are by no small means annoyed that their little brother risked himself against the darkness of Greenwood without them. I have already caught them in your chambers – not that you use them, but your clothes are still there – with a large quantity of honey and feathers. I am sure you can imagine better than me what they intended to do with them.”  
Aragorn started to sit up in alarm, but Thranduil gestured him down. “Do not worry. The honey and feathers have been confiscated. Elrond insisted I hand them over to him. I suspect that the twins may find themselves in an unfortunate encounter of their own, soon.”  
It wasn’t often that Ada turned the twins own pranks back on them, but those few times it had happened in Aragorn’s lifetime were shining memories that he treasured, particularly the one that ended with not only Elrohir’s hair, but Elrohir’s horse dyed bright pink. It wouldn’t come out for months. Ada had refused to let him ride a different horse, even when he travelled all the way to Lothlorien to escort Arwen home. It had been priceless.  
“Rest assured, they will be too busy to harass you for the time being. And if not, I am here. You can slumber in peace.”  
That had him laughing. “Thanks, Thran.” The casual nickname slipped out in his strange state of half-sleep, half clinging to wakefulness.  
The king looked momentarily surprised, but smiled indulgently. “Sleep, Estel.”  
Aragorn did. He slept deeply and long, though he never let go of Legolas, ever attuned to his friend, even in sleep. At some point, he was vaguely aware of voices, but they weren’t urgent, so he simply nuzzled deeper into Legolas, knowing that when the prince awoke, he would too.   
He was woken by the twins entering. Aragorn’s eyes snapped open, awaiting his brothers’ wrath, but to his relief, they were smiling. He quickly scanned them for any signs of an upcoming prank.  
“Don’t worry, I had them searched for feathers.” Thranduil was still sitting in a chair next to the bed.  
“No fair, Estel,” Elladan complained. “You can’t have the king of Greenwood as an ally.”  
“It’s entirely unjust,” Elrohir agreed. “Not only does he have the entire Greenwood guard at his disposal, but we can’t even revenge prank him, or he’d have our heads on pikes.”  
“Too right I would.” Thranduil managed to hide his smile from the twins, but Aragorn caught it. “You two have a thing or two to learn from your Ada. El had to operate under the same restrictions, but our prank wars when we were younger were legendary.”  
Aragorn’s eyes widened. That, he hadn’t known. The next time he was alone with Ada, he was going to demand stories.   
The twins sat down on the other side of the bed, their eyes on Legolas, who was still sleeping peacefully. “How is he?” Elrohir fiddled with the edge of the blanket, tucking it more closely around the prince’s shoulder.   
“About as well as can be expected when he fell asleep. I don’t know about when he wakes up. It can change so quickly… it confuses even him, sometimes.”  
His brothers gave him sympathetic looks. “You need to remember to take care of yourself, too, Estel.” Elladan was looking worriedly at him. “You look exhausted. We’re all here for him. You could let us stay with him for a while, or Ada, or the king.”  
“No,” Aragorn said a little too quickly. “He needs me.”  
He was the only one Legolas would ask for help from, the only one the prince would truly show the depths of his suffering to.   
“I’m fine. You know Ada will step in if he thinks otherwise.”  
“That much is true,” Elladan chuckled. “He never has been shy about ensuring his patients’ wellbeing. Too bad he sees everyone as his patient, sick or not.”  
“Too true,” Elrohir groaned. “Remember the time…”

Legolas  
Unknown to the others, Legolas wasn’t entirely asleep. He lay in that strange state between waking and sleeping, idly listening to the conversation, his head still pressed against Estel’s chest. He was lucky Estel was too busy talking to his brothers to notice him tense when they started chiding the human about taking care of himself.  
What was Legolas doing? He was so eager to accept help and comfort from his best friend, he was completely disregarding how Estel felt in all this. It could hardly be fun to watch someone you loved fall apart so thoroughly; to be so essential for their wellbeing was a lot of pressure. Estel was probably even more tired than he was.   
He’d have to pull back. Not stop relying on Estel entirely – he couldn’t bring himself to do that – but he’d try to be a bit more independent. Surely, he didn’t need Estel at his side every moment of every day.   
He knew that the longer he appeared to remain asleep, the longer he could avoid eating, but unfortunately, Estel was so attuned to him that the human quickly realized that he was in fact awake.   
“Legolas? Are you awake, mellon nin?”  
Pretending that he was just coming out of sleep, Legolas yawned and forced a smile for his best friend. “I am.”  
“Good, then you’re ready for some food.”  
He winced, but Estel’s expression was uncompromising.   
“I’ll fetch Ada.” Elladan got up, shooting Legolas an impish grin. “I hope Elia peeled the grapes today. She’s the best. Havil always mangles them.”  
Legolas gave a weak chuckle.   
“Do you want to be alone?” Estel spoke quietly in his ear, giving him the chance to remove the spectators. It would undoubtedly be easier with only Estel here, but Legolas shook his head. He was trying to rely less on Estel, which meant relying more on the other people who were trying to help him.  
Too soon, Elrond came in with a plate of grapes, as well as three cups for Legolas. He swallowed the potions first, before turning to the grapes, trying to convince himself he could do this. Thoughts of perfection battered into his mind, and Legolas knew he couldn’t keep them out for long.  
“Mellon nin?” Estel was looking at him, and Legolas knew he had to say something, but he resisted, fighting the urge to bury himself in his friend’s chest and let Estel feed him the grapes like an elfling.  
“Legolas, speak to me. Please.” At a signal from Estel, Elrond and the others left the room without a word, which just made him feel worse.   
“I don’t know how to do this.”  
“I will help you. Here, come and lean against me. Just try to relax.”  
“No, Estel! That’s the problem, don’t you see? I’m relying on you too much, but I don’t know how to do this without you.”  
“You don’t need to do it without me. I wouldn’t let you if you wanted to. Don’t worry, as you get better, you’ll need me less. For now, it’s ok to need help, gwador.”  
Was it really that simple? “I’m exhausting you,” Legolas mumbled, shame welling up inside of him.   
“Don’t worry about me. I know my limits – and so does Ada. Do you honestly doubt he’ll step in if he thinks I’m not taking proper care of myself?”  
“No.” That much was true. “Still, I shouldn’t need you this much. It’s stupid…”  
“It is not stupid, mellon nin. Believe me, I’m glad you’re letting me help you. I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer alone.”  
He’d had a good argument against this, but Legolas found it quickly slipping away from him. “How do you do that?”  
“Do what?”  
“Take what’s so messed up in my head and make it so easy.”  
“You trust me, that’s how.”  
Legolas wasn’t given long to ponder this. Estel tugged at his shoulder, and this time, he didn’t resist, lying back against his friend’s chest as the human had suggested. Legolas clutched a large cup of water while Estel fed him the grapes one by one.   
The moment Estel put the tray aside, Legolas was seized by the feeling of impurity. Estel was ready for him and caught his wrist before the prince could bring it close to his mouth.   
“No, gwador. You can’t do that. Tell me.”  
Legolas opened his mouth to speak… and burst into tears. There was no impatience in Estel’s movements as he wrapped his arms around the prince, slowly rubbing his back. “That’s right, mellon nin. Let it all out. There you go.”  
He must have fallen asleep after crying himself out, because the next thing he knew, Estel was gently shaking him awake. “It’s time for your session with Elrond.”  
Legolas nodded eagerly. Elrond would help him sort out the mess of his thoughts, make them make sense. Estel escorted him there, as always, where Elrond was waiting for him. Legolas hesitated on the threshold. He remembered what had happened the last time he was in this room, and it gave him pause.  
Elrond was as astute as always. “We can go somewhere else, if you’d prefer?”  
Legolas shook his head. He was being silly. He stepped inside and sat down on the couch.   
“How are you doing?” Elrond’s eyes were soft and concerned, and Legolas couldn’t quite bring himself to meet them.   
“I’m not sure, really.”  
Elrond simply waited. After several minutes, Legolas continued. He told the elf lord everything, every confused, half-formed thought and feeling in his head. Elrond listened patiently. When Legolas started hyperventilating, Elrond helped him drink a dose of his tea and sat with an arm around him until Legolas was calm again.  
When he was done talking, Elrond started to ask questions. They began discussing. They talked through every point he’d made. Legolas had been right. Elrond did indeed help him see things more clearly. He understood now that the thoughts he had about perfection weren’t natural, but a by product of his abuse as a child.  
Elrond fully approved of relying on Estel as much as he did and echoed Estel’s certainty that it wouldn’t need to be forever. For what felt like the first time in centuries, Legolas felt a small ray of hope. Perhaps there was a way out of this for him, after all. He wasn’t crazy. It had been his own past messing with him all along.   
They danced around the subject of the actual memory, but Elrond eventually brought it up. “Do… do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked gently.  
Legolas shook his head vehemently. “No. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. When I do… I think I’d like Estel here.”  
“Of course. Whatever you need, penneth. You have done very well. I truly believe that you will get better.”  
Though it had seemed like a terrible idea at first, in the wake of his reaction, Legolas was beginning to wonder if unlocking the memory might not have been the best thing after all. Yes, it had nearly killed him, and the resultant emotional turmoil had been gruelling, but if he could just get to that shining place everyone was sure he could reach – the place un-haunted by perfection – then perhaps it would all be ok. Perhaps he’d needed to break totally before he could put himself back together again.   
“Legolas? What are you thinking?”  
“I still think of death,” he admitted. “There’s fear there, but also longing. I think it’ll get better, though. I hope it will.”  
Had it been night time, Elrond’s smile could have lit up the room.


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue  
Legolas   
Days passed, and became weeks, which became months. In later years, Legolas would have only patchy memories of these times. While he made progress, it was hard-fought for, and many times, he found himself regressing to places he thought he’d long ago left behind.   
Estel was there for him every step of the way, as were Elrond, the twins and his Ada. There were times when Legolas was so despairing and hopeless that he couldn’t even get out of bed. On those day, Estel would lie down with him and let Legolas cry on him, ruining more tunics than the prince could count.   
Eventually, he progressed from fruit to other types of food, each step accompanied by the now-familiar driving thoughts of perfection, the panic and desperate need to throw up afterwards. As time went on, his slips became less and less, though he was still watched closely.   
His arms healed quickly. His mind healed more slowly, but heal it did. It took him years, but he finally told his father the details of what had happened to him. He’d discussed it with Estel, and at length with Elrond, but it was still hard to do. He was glad once he’d done it, though.  
The twins told him that they would be ready to listen should he ever want to confide in them more than the basics they already knew, but that he did not need to if he didn’t want to. They knew enough, should he decide he wanted to speak of it no more.  
He well remembered the day he was trusted with weapons – a full three years after Estel had first discovered his secrets. It took him months to regain his skill with a bow, but before long, he was as good as he’d ever been. He went on hunts with Estel and the twins.   
Elrond returned to Imladris, promising Legolas that he had only to say the word, and he would be back. As the elf lord had promised, Legolas didn’t need to cling to Estel every moment of every day. Though he’d always desire his friend’s company, he was able to cope without Estel at his side. Not that they were parted from each other for long. They stayed together, as brothers should, travelling mostly between Greenwood and Imladris.  
Time passed, and Legolas healed. Five years passed, then another five, and the horrors of the past became but a distant memory. Life was no longer strictly controlled with a knife, but full of light and laughter. It was the childhood Legolas should have had, and he lived it with Estel.  
Fifteen years since that fateful day when Estel had discovered everything passed to find the two friends alone in the woods in Imladris on a hunting trip. The twins had been driving Estel crazy, and Legolas had suggested the excursion.   
Legolas heard the soft whisper of human footsteps ahead, and held his hand up. Estel stopped, waiting for his word. “Someone is ahead,” Legolas murmured.  
“It’s probably those poachers Ada warned us about. You’ll go around?”  
Legolas nodded and silently crept away, making his way to the far side of the place where the sound was coming from. At a signal from the prince – the cry of a falcon they had both spent hours practicing – they pounced. There were only two trappers, and Legolas easily disarmed one while Estel did the same to the other.  
“You are hunting illegally on my father’s lands.” Estel levelled them with a stern gaze.   
“Your father? These lands belong to no man!”  
“My father is Lord Elrond of Rivendell. You should not be here.”  
They gaped at him. The one who seemed to be the leader spat at Legolas. “Elves. Think you’re so perfect! The rest of us don’t have as easy a time as you filling our bellies. Some perfect elf you are.”  
Estel stiffened at the awfully familiar wording, unfortunate coincidence that it had been. Legolas swiftly stepped between him and the poachers, certain the leader was about to lose his head.   
“Get out of here, now, before I change my mind about letting my friend kill you. We will know if you enter these lands again.”  
The poachers lost their courage at his fierce glare and wisely ran. Estel was breathing hard. “Let me go after them…”  
“No, mellon nin, it is alright. They spoke the truth. They are struggling to feed themselves.”  
“I don’t doubt it, walking like they were. They were making such a racket, I bet it scared away all game between here and the Misty Mountains.”  
“What are you going to do?” Legolas was glad that Estel was talking rather than hunting down the poachers and relieving them of their heads.  
“We should report to Ada. Maybe Glorfindel could take a couple of hunters over to their village, teach them to improve their skills, so that they don’t have to range so far to find food.” Estel visibly made an effort to put aside his anger. He cupped a hand to Legolas’ cheek. “Are you alright?”  
“I am fine, mellon nin.” It was true. Legolas knew now that he wasn’t perfect, that he’d never be perfect. But he didn’t have to be.  
Estel surprised him, pulling him into a fierce hug. “I love you, gwador.”  
“I love you, Estel, brother of my heart.” Legolas lingered in their embrace for a moment before pulling back. “Now come, lazy human. Those poachers may not have succeeded in scaring off all the game, and we have yet to catch our dinner.”  
“You mean you have yet to catch our dinner. I caught it last night.”  
“Only because you stumbled upon that wounded deer and put it out of its misery! That was no act of hunting.”  
Several hours later saw them lying on their backs, gazing up at the stars, Legolas having indeed caught their dinner.   
“Do you ever think they’re watching us?” Estel asked idly, gesturing to the stars. “Some people say the souls of the departed look down on the living through the stars.”  
“I do not know. It is possible, I suppose, though I’d rather be in Valinor.”  
“Me too. But not for a long time.” There was comfortable silence for a few minutes. “What do they think, I wonder?” he mused. “Looking down on this life?”  
Legolas sighed, moving closer to his friend and resting his head on Estel’s shoulder. “That it’s messy. And frustrating, and sometimes downright impossible… but for all that… it’s perfect. Just the way it is. Messiness and imperfections and all.”  
The starlight was in Estel’s eyes as he turned his head to meet Legolas’ gaze. “Just as we all are, mellon nin,” he agreed. “Just as we all are.”  
Legolas murmured his agreement as he turned his face back up to face the sky. His hand found Estel’s, and they exchanged a smile before going back to gazing up at the night sky in all its glory. Legolas could make out some of the patterns humans liked to draw in the sky. They were twisted and broken in some places, with weird humps and flat spots making up the larger picture. Even the sky, as beautiful as it was, was filled with flaws.   
It was perfect. 

The End

A/N: If you liked my story, please review, I always appreciate it! :)


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